Harry Potter and the Two Ghetto Gangsta Tricks
by yourgrandmother
Summary: H&G D&OC. Shameless Mary-Sue-age, homonym intended. It's Harry's final year, and just when he thinks that things might be normal, a couple of OCs from the ghetto arrive. Trouble ensues, causing Hogwarts to freak out. AU, OotP compliant, sort of. Crack!fic
1. The Two Tricks that Lived, Damn It

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: So I've finally told myself that I am going to **_**finish**_** this damn story. I started writing it in 2003, so it's just ridiculous that it's not done yet. I refuse to abandon it. I'm reposting the story, edited slightly because well wow. After reading it again after so many years, I realized that parts of this story were really offensive! And had way too many exclamation marks and way too much caps lock insanity. I mean, it probably is still offensive, but I tried to make it so I at least wasn't offending myself. Oh dear. Anyway! I own nothing, aside from the plot and a few OCs. The paragraph with McGonagall's spiel was borrowed from ****The Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone****. **

Harry Potter And The Two Ghetto Gangsta Bitches

_Chapter 1:_ _The Two Bitches Who Lived To See The Sorting Hat, Damn It_

"Bitch, please! I don't think so!"

"Not in frent of theh ferst years," Hagrid said, grimacing from underneath his coarse, black beard. This was going to be a very, _very_ long trip, he thought to himself. They had just walked out of the Hogsmeade station; would it still be too late to turn back and put the two girls back on a train and send them home?

" Ain't nothin' they ain't heard before. And ain't that the truth! You've heard the word 'shit' before, right?" Védith turned to a frightened first year. His eyes went wide and he trembled in fear, fidgeting with the sleeves of his black robe.

"Don't just stand there, fool! Answer the woman!" Elvorfindra put her hands on her hips and tossed her hair behind her shoulder.

"Stop terrorizing them! It won't change theh fact thet yeh two have teh row across theh lake in order teh get teh theh castle," Hagrid said pulled the two onward by their arms.

"We ain't no first years! We don't have to deal with no dumb tradiiition!" Védith pouted, her green eyes turning cold and undaunted.

"It's yer first year at Hogwarts, so yeh do. Besides, yeh don't know where you're goin'," Hagrid retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you see that we' got legs? We can _walk_," Elvorfindra shot back.

"An' yeh gots arms! Have an oar!" He tossed a couple wooden paddles to Védith and Elvorfindra, whose jaws nearly hit the damp grass. He just wouldn't bother to give them the small detail that the boats were indeed magically propelled.

The air was cool and the sky dark. A few stars twinkled in the sky and three or four boats were strewn across the shore of a large lake. Across the water was a massive castle that stood out from anything else in the area. Védith and Elvorfindra grumbled and climbed into one of the boats along with other first years. Multiple oars cut through the water, which looked like dark oil underneath the moon's glow. Joining as one, the horizon and the water became an indistinguishable sheet of darkness. A striking castle jutted from the ground and drew many eager eyes. It was bright with light from the festivities going on within. Despite its hard and stony structure where menacing gargoyles were perched, the castle actually looked rather inviting. Small creatures were milling just inside with massive trunks and various cages in hand. Yet the whole scene was kind of disrupted with the thundering calls coming from the two disgruntled girls as they ploughed through the water.

"HEAVE HO!"

"HEAVE!"

"HO!"

"WHO YOU CALLIN' HO? YOU'SE THE HO! NOW HEAVE, YOU WHORE!"

When all the boats finally did reach the shore, Védith and Elvorfindra thrust their oars into Hagrid's large hands.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" he asked, his face all innocence.

"Bite me, Beard Boy," Védith growled.

"Ooh, feisty ones you lot are. Sure they're going teh have fun dealin' with yeh." Hagrid's laugh was full of mirth. He pushed the girls along, leading them and the first years in the direction of an older stern-looking woman who stood at the doors of the castle.

"Hello, Hagrid. Nice trip across the lake?" Her smile made a small dent in her steely reserve.

"It was...er, interesting." Hagrid's shifted an irritated gaze over Védith and Elvorfindra as he fidgeted with his moleskin coat pockets. "Anyway, I best scoot off an' git these trunks an' things ter the elves. I'll see yeh at theh feast." And with that, his large form became increasingly smaller while he made his way over to a set of carriages seemingly drawn by nothing.

"Now then, welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have some classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards—" she was in the middle of the inspiring speech when Védith and Elvorfrindra cut her off.

"Isn't that touching? Cut and paste on a Hallmark card and send it to me later when maybe I'll care," Védith said and yawned.

"Seriously, do you have Cliffs Notes for that sermon?" Elvorfindra nodded, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, Védith Black-Ness and Elvorfindra Starsley, I presume?" She eyed the only two significantly tall students of the bunch with distaste.

"Yeah," they sighed in unison.

"I am sorry I bore you, but you and the first years might find it of some use," Professor McGonagall's jaw remained rigid.

"Let them find out on they're own. They'll manage or whatever," Védith assured her.

"I am not sure if I agree with that, but I am very glad to meet the both of you nonetheless. I thought Hagrid would have instructed you to change before arriving," Professor McGonagall scrutinized their clothing. Védith wore hip-hugging jeans, a tight black tube top, and Timberland boots. There was a tattoo of a falling dove on her shoulder, clearly done with magical ink because the bird roamed around smoothly on her back. Large silver hoops encircled her ears, while her neck remained bare. Her light blonde hair had been pulled into a disheveled bun and a blasé look on her face made it clear that should rather be somewhere else.

Elvorfindra was slightly more conservative in the way she dressed, but still qualified as a hoochie. She also sported large silver hoop earrings and tan Timberlands, but her jeans were a dark navy. As for her shirt...oh dear. It was a milkmaid shirt with lively red coloring that seemed innocent enough, but the shirt was so tight and low-cut that a prostitute might blush. Okay well maybe not a prostitute, but damn that thing's slutty. Her hair was slightly darker than Védith's, a golden blonde, and fell around her shoulders in a harmless and benign sort of manner, but any traces of simplicity left when Professor McGonagall noticed the sarcastic look also plastered to her face.

"But...that does not matter. There is a lavatory down the hallway. You can go and change into your school robes there—" Védith and Elvorfindra didn't let Professor McGonagall finish.

"School robes?" they scoffed in unison.

"I was positive you received a school list by means of an owl...how else did you..." she trailed off, readjusting the glasses that sat on her nose.

"Yeah we got your letter, but we ain't gonna wear no school robes. That's triflin'," Elvorfindra spat, eyeing the others' attire.

"Ladies, it is required at Hogwarts that you wear a uniform. I realize you do not have your ties, shawls, and sweaters yet, but you will receive all of those when you are sorted. In the meantime though, would you mind just changing into the standard black robes?" Professor McGonagall furrowed her brow. Malfoy was one thing, but she was not used to dealing with such students.

"Yeah, we do. Whatevs, we'll do it later. Looks like your lil' Sortin' Ceremony's startin'," Védith noted and pointed at the door that led into the Great Hall.

"Alright, move along. Now form a single-file line, and follow me," the older woman instructed. "I'm going to _kill_ Dumbledore! And I'll start by shaving off that nostalgic beard of his. 'Brilliant foreign students, I'm sure!' Oh, this is going to give Hogwarts a hernia," she muttered to herself as she started into the next room, the others following suit.

It was magnificent. The whole room seemed absolutely golden. Candles hung in midair, illuminating the whole scene. There were four enormous mahogany tables, adorned with glittering plates and goblets. Yet each table was decorated in a different fashion. One in red and gold with traces of pouncing lions here and there. Another was all green and silver, and everyone who sat there had malicious expressions on their faces. The third was in yellow and black, and the fourth table was in blue and bronze. Hundreds of students filled the seats, all adorned in black robes and white shirts with pointed black hats perched on top of their heads. A fifth table was set up as well at the front of the Hall. It possessed the entire faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the middle of it all was a simple wooden stool and an old, ratty-looking hat. The entire room was silent, watching the first years file in.

Once they had all entered and the Great Hall's door had shut forebodingly, the old hat on the stool began to speak, and then broke into song:

"In honor of welcoming a couple of new students in particular, this year's song was written in order to make them feel more at home. It's a bit different, but I think everyone will enjoy it...can I get a beat? Everyone just clap your hands!" However, the only ones that did any clapping were Védith, Elvorfindra, and Dumbledore.

"_Fo' Schizzle my nizzle_

_I may not dazzle an' sizzle_

_But I sho' gots the maddest skizizzle_

_In all the land_

_"Find me another rappin' hat_

_And I'll disappear just like that_

_But I hope you not real dumb_

_You bettah axxe someone_

'_Cause you won't find none _

_"I can read yo' mind_

_I can see your thoughts that are confined_

_Refined, unkind, and de-clined_

_I know who ya wanna bump an' grind_

_"But tonight I'm here fo' somethin' quite noble_

_I'mma read you, lead you to the unknowable_

_E'ery one of you has got a place_

_Somewhere that you'll call your home base_

_"You gots four choices, but only one that's your fit_

_So if would just go ahead and have a sit_

_On this here stool, and let me explain_

_The four houses that here reign_

_"You may lead a life in Hufflepuff_

_Where you'll be loyal, true, and tough_

_But hey, not everyone likes pushover marshmallow fluff_

_"You may walk the path of Gryffindor_

_Where bravery and courage will open the door_

_But hey, not everyone likes the people who act like whores_

_"You may travel with Ravenclaw_

_Where you'll be the smartest bizitch anyone ever saw_

_Yo' wit and good insults will make anyone go cry to their maw_

_But hey, not everyone likes the ones with the schlongs that are smaw_

_"You may go on with Slytherin_

_Where with determination, yo' destined to win_

_Lookin' like goths, decorated with sin_

_But hey, not everyone likes being a nosy bitch with ugly skin_

_"So there you have it_

_I'm the biggest bi-zi-zatch_

_Any of the four hiz-ouses has ever saw_

_Now sit me on yo' head_

_I'm comfy like yo' bed_

_"I gots da 411_

_I know da haps_

_And why is that?_

_It's 'cause I'm the Sortin Haaaat!_

_Hollaaaaaa!"_


	2. The Sortin Hat's Gone Ghetto

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: In case you couldn't tell, this is probably my third or fourth round of edits on this story. That means more reposting. If it's messing with anyone's alerts, sorry! My focus in college was in editing, so I'm just being really OCD about typos and such. I wish there was an easy way to edit an already posted chapter instead of having to delete it. Anyway! I own nothing.**

Chapter 2: _The Sortin' Hat's Gone Ghetto_

The Hall stood in silence, with the exception of Védith and Elvorfindra. They were jumping up and down, whistling and clapping.

"His flow isn't that great, but he is so awesome for trying!" Védith whispered loudly.

"Best. Hat. EVER," Elvorfindra agreed. The hat seemed to preen from their comments.

Everyone stared and Professor Dumbledore, with his twinkling eyes and white hair, cleared his throat. At that moment, the rest of the room burst into applause as well. Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, three people were crouched together in discussion.

"Reckon the Sorting Hat's had too much to drink this year?" Ron glanced at the withered mass of cloth on the stool.

"I reckon you're right," Harry laughed as he fiddled with his disappointingly empty golden plate.

"Who do you reckon they are?" Ron stared pointedly at Védith and Elvorfindra. They stood out remarkably compared to the other first years. The girls seemed to be almost a head taller than all of the nervous 11-year-olds. Not to mention they didn't show a sign of anxiety at all. What were they doing up there, ready for Sorting?

"I don't know what to reckon. I reckon they're not from around here," Harry said and squinted through his glasses to see better. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione expectantly.

"I _reckon_ that you two need to sod off; I can't hear a word of what anyone's saying!" she scoffed, flipping her curly, brown hair behind her shoulder. Harry and Ron continued to stare at her, as if to silently demand an answer. "I don't know any better than you do. I can't hardly read about them in Hogwarts: A History, now can I?"

"Some good you are..." Ron muttered.

"Hey!" she frowned.

"They can't be first years," Harry shifted his gaze over what the two girls wore.

"Not bad, are they?" Ron grinned, nudging him with his elbow.

"Not bad at all," Harry laughed in agreement.

"Dumbledore will probably say something about them. He _has_ to. Oh! Shh, the Sorting's already begun," Hermione shushed Harry and Ron.

"Atkins, Sarah!" Professor McGonagall's voice echoed throughout the Hall. A short girl with a mousy look about her climbed onto the stool. She carefully placed the hat on her head and waited a moment.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted a few moments later. The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly, welcoming their new "family member."

"Beggins, Frederick!" A diminutive, curly-haired boy stepped up to the plate and took in a deep breath.

"You're a wimp, but you're also annoying," the Sorting Hat pondered aloud. "GRYFFINDOR!"

"I thought the Sorting Hat was only supposed to speak to you privately. Rather pushy this year, he is. Perhaps he needs to get laid?" Ron turned to Harry.

"Is that all you two think about? Merlin's beard...ever since they discovered they had dicks..." Hermione grumbled and gave Ron a swift kick in the shin.

"Black-Ness, Védith!" Professor McGonagall announced to the room.

"That's me! That's me!" She pushed her way through the crowd of first years. Védith walked to the stool and sat down with the hat in her lap.

"Dear, you're supposed to put me on you head," it sighed.

"You want me to put _you_, on _my_ head? I don't think so. There is no way in hell I'm puttin' a ratty, moth-eaten, frumpy thing like you on _my_ head. You'll make _me_ look like some busted ass chick!" Védith snapped.

"Hey! Nobody ever said you were prime real estate _either_, girlie!" the hat snapped.

"Oh no you didn't! I know you did not! You know what? You know what?" Védith snapped. "That's what!" She laughed menacingly as she sat on the hat. Muffled cries could be heard from the stool and students could hardly keep from laughing. Professor McGonagall frowned and rushed over to the hat's aid.

"Védith, Védith dear. Please, please get off the hat. You need to be sorted," she tried to persuade her to stand up.

"Shoot! You think I'm gonna put somethin' that was underneath my _ass_ on my head? I don't think so," Védith's shook her head with a sour face. When Professor McGonagall finally persuaded Védith to stand up, the hat desperately gasped for air it didn't need.

"Well I never!" it said in a huff, turning away from Védith. Professor McGonagall apologized on Védith's behalf and gave the hat back to her to put on.

"Why I oughta pull the stitches straight outta you, you punkass bitch," she retorted and started to wring the hat in her hands as it let out a sad choking sound.

"Védith! Védith! Girl, you need to chill," Elvorfindra called from the band of first years.

"Not now, Findra, I gotta kill this sucka MC," Védith replied absently as she continued to strangle the hat furiously.

"But we're all five kinds of hungry. Just get sorted so we can eat some of this terrible British food!" Elvorfindra insisted.

"Food? Nobody said nothin' about food! Shoot, that changes eeeeevrythang." She looked up at her friend with wide eyes, the hat dropping at her feet. It lay in a crumpled heap, coughing. The hat sighed in relief, but shrieked in horror when Professor McGonagall had just about enough of this charade and stuffed it on Védith's head.

"My hair! My beautiful hair! My messy bun look is ruined!" she whined.

"Oh shut your trap! Your hair ain't that pretty!" the hat snarled.

"Fine, just hurry this shit up. I've gots to do my nails! They've been chippin' atrociously ever since they made contact with your ugly self!" Védith spat.

"Right, 'cause you actually have nice nails." The hat rolled its stitched eyes.

"Oh don't even start. Just put me in one of your damn houses."

"Well, let's see...you wouldn't fit in well with Slytherin. You do seem to have that pain-in-the-ass quality to you, but you also possess too much of a good heart," the hat pondered aloud.

Professor Snape, with his seemingly permanent sneer on his face raised his brows at the hat's remark.

"Hufflepuff wouldn't be right for you. I don't think you're either that smart or studious. Besides, Hufflepuffs are whiny little bitches who can't play Quidditch worth their lives. As for being a Gryffindor...no, no. You have bravery, yes, Miss Black-Ness, you do. However, you'd be the only good-looking person in your house, oh I mean...what? That leaves me with Ravenclaw. You're certainly full of wit and you're quite egotistical, so Ravenclaw it is. RAVENCLAW!" the hat announced. Védith threw off the hat and tossed it to the floor, running towards the blue and bronze embellished table.

Normally, tables would cheer for their new housemates, but only a few claps and cricket chirps could be heard. Everyone who sat at the Ravenclaw table uneasily shifted in order to make room for Védith; they weren't sure they were so glad that she was joining them.

"Heeeeeyyy!" she greeted in a shrill voice.

A few people mumbled greetings, but the Ravenclaws mainly kept their attention on the rest of the Sorting. It was nearly done. The amount of first years actually wasn't that enormous this year.

"What is wrong with that girl? God, is she retarded or just stupid?" a very light-haired Slytherin drawled, glancing at his friends.

"No idea," Crabbe shrugged.

"Dracoooo, do you have any food?" Goyle whined.

"Yeah, when are we eating?" Crabbe turned to the light-haired Slytherin.

"Fools, don't you have anything better to whinge about?" Draco rolled his eyes and slapped one of his plump friends upside the head.

But he wasn't entirely sure as to which one it was, for some time now he had not been able to tell the two apart. He tossed a small packet of peanuts to them he had happened to have stored in his pocket specifically for this form of entertainment. Draco watched in amusement as he observed his lugs for friends fight to the death for the small treat.

"While it's not even funny how offensive she is, she does have a nice pair of baps," Blaise Zabini observed while he strummed his well-manicured long fingers against the finely polished table. "Obviously she's not a first year, but I wonder what she's doing here."

"Lord knows what. Looks like a bloody Muggle, she does. And we all know how that bumbling Dumbledore absolutely _adores_ Mudbloods and the like. It is a pity to see what was once a fine school fall into ruins," Draco sighed dramatically. He was somewhat relieved when he heard the name "Ronalds, Nicholas" called.

"They're almost done, finally," Pansy Parkinson read his mind.

"STARSLEY, ELVORFINDRA!" McGonagall called from the front of the room. A dark blonde stood up and walked towards the stool.

"Holy shit, there's another one of them," Zabini noted with a raised his brow.

"She's just as bad! They both look terribly trashy." Pansy grimaced and put her attention back on filing her nails. "Don't they have robes?"

"The schools going to be infested! Damn my mother and her ridiculous need to have her only son close by. If I were at Durmstrang, I wouldn't have to deal with ludicrous situations like this," Draco groaned.

"Oh hang off it, Malfoy. It's tiresome to hear about bleeding Durmstrang and the erection you have for that school." Before Draco could start cursing him out, Zabini continued, "Don't get your knickers in a twist; this could be a good thing. They happen to be hotter than half the girls at this school," he noted, subtly scowling at an oblivious pug-faced Pansy and watching Draco laugh with a tone of malice in his voice.

But there was another Slytherin taking notice to the two girls as well. Scott Éville's eyes grazed over Elvorfindra and they did not leave her for a long while. Draco noticed this, but did not mention it to his friends, nor did he hang shit on Éville for it either. He was one of the few people Draco actually stayed away from at Hogwarts. In fact, everyone did. There was something dark about Scott. Sure, one would think that wouldn't matter, considering that was typical Slytherin behavior, but Scott was different. He received high marks, but was never one to flaunt them, unlike that overachiever, Granger. Scott never made fun of anyone and always kept to himself. Hell, he didn't even have any friends, as far as he knew. It was interesting though, there was something that finally gave Éville a sign of emotion rather than constantly being submersed deep into his thoughts.

Elvorfindra smiled nervously and sat the hat on her blonde head.

"Odd, this one doesn't like to talk back, shout, or attempt to kill me," the hat remarked. The Great Hall laughed a little, but was followed by a loud "'EY!" coming from the Ravenclaw table.

"Would you prefer it if I got my seam ripper out?" Elvorfindra replied calmly and started to pat her pockets.

"No, no. That's alright." The hat laughed nervously.

"Let's just get one thing straight. If you put me in Hufflepuff, I'll drown you. There's no way I'm representin' an goddamn badger." Elvorfindra scowled.

"You GO! You GO GIRL!" Védith called from her table.

"Mmmhhmm. So less get this over with, Hatty." She smiled.

"How does Gryffindor sound to you, dear?" the hat asked.

"As in Godric? How 'bout no. The house sounds like a bunch of proud punkasses to me," Elvorfindra yawned.

"Psshtt, don't I know it. And how about Slytherin?" The hat grinned, but it didn't receive an answer. Elvorfindra was crouched over on the stool laughing.

"Elvorfindra, dear? Are you alright?" the hat tried to capture her attention.

"Please, call me Findra. I'm fine, but that's the most ri-goddamn-diculous thing I've ever heard in my entire life! _Me_? In Slytherin?" and she was sent into fits of laughter once more.

"That leaves you with RAVENCLAW! Somebody come and collect her!" it yelled.

Professor McGonagall ushered another student forward to be sorted and pulled Elvorfindra off the stool. She led her to her table where Védith was clapping enthusiastically while the rest of the Ravenclaws remained rather silent. By the time Professor McGonagall made her way to her seat at the faculty table, the Sorting was over and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was making a speech.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words and explain a few things. Perhaps you may be wondering why two of our new students were sorted when they clearly...did not have the look of first years on their faces. Elvorfindra, Védith, would you care to stand up?" Dumbledore asked as motioned to them at the Ravenclaw table. They immediately bounded up, waving and saying "Heeeeyy!" to the rest of the school.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "Elvorfindra Starsley and Védith Black-Ness have just transferred here from Latinka's School of Bitchcraft and Blingblingadry, which is in Washington D.C.—" he was cut off by a brief catcall of, "Represent area code 202!"

"I hope you make both of them feel welcome here for their remaining seventh year at Hogwarts. I'd also like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Well, he is not exactly a new face. Professor Lupin, would you please stand up?"

There was quiet applause, with the exception of the Gryffindor table, where a few cheers could be heard.

"And with that," he said as he pulled out a piece of parchment and awkwardly read, "For shizzle my nizzle, you best keep it rizzle, and enjoy the fried chicken."


	3. The Great Hall, A Buffet

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: As always, I know I'm a terrible person and I own nothing except for Védith and Elvorfindra, and even they are their own people… **

Chapter 3: _The Great Hall, A Buffet_

As soon as Dumbledore sat down, the empty golden dishes on everyone's tables were generously piled with food, including vast amounts of fried chicken and collard greens. Védith and Elvorfindra looked askance at one another.

"Dude, are they serving fried chicken?" Elvorfindra asked in a hushed, but in a completely normal and standard American accent.

Védith stared with wide eyes at a golden brown drumstick on a nearby student's plate. "I think so," she replied in an equally normal voice.

"Dude, that's kind of racist."

"Yeah, I _know!_"

They sat for a moment in silence looking at the food and watching people eating it.

"But it's _delicious_ racism," Elvorfindra declared solemnly.

"Yeah, I _know!_" Védith grinned and gave her a high five.

They happily dug into the food that surrounded them, but soon realized they were still hungry and that the selection at the Ravenclaw table was not as great and expansive as they desired. Deciding that they better scavenge, they stood up and took their plates with them.

"Where are you going?" a girl sitting near them asked. She looked as if she was hoping that they might say "Back home."

"Gettin' some more food," Védith explained.

"But there's loads right—" they ignored her and made their way to another table.

"Girl, check this out!" Védith nudged Elvorfindra.

"Ooh, and I thought Scrumptious was _my_ name! Giiiirl, they gots collard greens. They _gots_ collard greens!" Elvorfindra pointed to the massive bowl on the scarlet-and-gold-decorated table and rubbed her hands together greedily.

"You and collard greens." Védith laughed and helped herself to some mashed potatoes.

"Ah— ah, excuse me?" a voice piped up. Védith looked around and her eyes stumbled upon a pale Gryffindor who had bright green eyes and dark, messy hair. Glasses adorned his face and there was a distinct scar on his forehead.

"Findra, do you know this kid?" She pointed at the Gryffindor.

"Never seen the fool a day in my life," Elvorfindra replied, piling a generous amount of collard greens onto her plate.

"How can I help you?" Védith smiled.

"Don't mean to be territorial, but, ah—I believe this is our food," he pointed out nervously.

"Sorry to trouble you, but it is. Generally everybody has the same thing..." A brown-eyed girl with wild chestnut hair gave them a halfhearted smile.

"Clearly you don't know what you're talking about," Elvorfindra said evenly. The girl gasped in horror, as if she had never been wrong about a thing in her life. "They's all different," she continued, "That Hufflepuff table, you seem them? They gots them pulled BBQ pork sandwiches." Elvorfindra showed the two Gryffindors her plate as proof.

"Barbeque sandwiches? I could go for one of those right now," a red-haired kid said as his eyes glazed over.

"Ron!" the brunette hissed.

"Sorry," he slouched in his seat.

"Well, I guess you can have some, since you're already here and everything," the dark-haired one conceded. The brunette kicked him under the table and he winced. "Oh, I'm sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves. This is Ron Weasley," he pointed to the ginger, "this is Hermione Granger," he patted Chestnut Hair's back, "And I'm...I'm Harry," the dark-haired kid blushed and offered an outstretched hand. Both Védith and Elvorfindra took it, their eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Harry who..."

"Oh...Potter. Harry Potter," he said quietly as a sheepish look overtook his face.

"A jigga _who_?" Védith choked. Stunned, Védith and Elvorfindra's eyebrows nearly shook hands with their own hairlines.

"Big H? Punkass P who beat up Big Man V? That's _you?_" Elvorfindra's eyes went wide.

"Is that what they call him in America?" Hermione watched, fascinated.

"Big Man V, I like it. Better than You-Know-Who." Ron nodded in satisfaction.

"Yeah! Shoot! I didn't know you actually went here!" Védith stomped her foot on the ground in excitement.

"Well, I do," Harry's cheeks were flaming. Out of the corner of her eye, Elvorfindra suddenly noticed Dean Thomas.

"Oh my God! Védith, look! It's a brotha!" she pointed at him.

"Who? Dean?" Harry raised his brows.

"Yeah! Thass him!" Elvorfindra nodded.

"Anotha brotha! Fiiiinally!" Védith sighed in relief. Dean Thomas heard his name in the conversation and turned to them. His eyes went wide slightly, but he smiled anyway.

"Dean, this is Elvorfindra and Védith," Hermione introduced them.

"Hi, how are you? Wait a minute, Harry, are these the girls that think they're black?" Dean pointed at them. Védith's and Elvorfindra's chins just about hit their plates and scowls appeared on their faces.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Wait a tic, Hair-ey, is this theh kid that thinks he's white?" Védith retorted in a terrible British accent.

"What did she say? Did she just—" Dean was at a loss for words.

Noting that the conversation had just gotten hideously awkward, Elvorfindra grabbed Védith's hand. "Védith, we should go and leave Punkass P alone with his friends. It was good meetin' y'all!" Elvorfindra waved and pulled Védith along.

The only table they hadn't raided was Slytherin's and they gladly bounced towards it. No one noticed at first when the two girls started helping themselves to the food.

"Findra, check it! They got that pasta with that pesto sauce. Get some of this. Ohhh, and they got steak too!" Védith marveled at the expanse of food before her.

"Mmm! And they got sweet potatoes too, you want some?" Elvorfindra offered a spoonful of them to her. Védith nodded excitedly, sticking her finger in the orange potatoes and tasting them.

"And just _what_ do you think you're doing?" a cold voice spat.

"I don' t know 'bout you, but I'm havin' my pick of the buffet," Védith replied as she reached for the spoon that lay comfortably in the gravy. A pale hand grabbed Védith's arm and forced her to drop the serving spoon.

"Well, I _believe_ that the food on this table belongs to Slytherin." Draco Malfoy raised a brow at Védith. She yanked her arm from his grasp and glowered at him.

"Well, I _believe,_ you need to remove that large pole from your ass. It may need to come out surgically because it is pretty far up there," Védith shot back and glared at him.

"She's a quick one, boys. Watch out, that wit can kill." Malfoy barked with laughter. Védith rolled her eyes, but Elvorfindra gasped in fear. All eyes turned to her and she took a seat next to Draco. She shuddered and let out a small cry.

"What's wrong with your other slutty counterpart?" Pansy sneered.

"Nobody aaaxxed you!" Védith moved her head with attitude. She joined Elvorfindra's side and asked her what was the matter.

"Oh my God…this is terrible, so terrible," Elvorfindra said as her eyes filled with pity. She reached a hand to tentatively touch Malfoy's hair. Védith looked away and covered her eyes.

"What? What's wrong?" Malfoy slapped her hand away, looking angry.

"It's...it's just...you poor boy. What happened to you?" Elvorfindra reached for his hair again, but he slapped it away.

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Draco snapped.

"It must've just happened this morning. Dear, did you fall into a large tub of bleach? Or was it peroxide? It seems to have affected your skin too. It's so god-awfully pale…" Elvorfindra's face remained serious for a moment, but then both she and Védith burst into fits of laughter. And soon, so did everyone else but Draco, who was actually blushing. He was glowering at the two of them, trying to regain his original cool composure.

"At least my hair isn't ratty and greasy like yours. Unlike in America, we have showers here. This may be a new concept to you, but you're just going to have to deal with it," Draco snarled.

"Well that ain't right," Elvorfindra said.

"Yeah," Védith agreed. "Now he's just making shit up. We are all about the Pantene Pro V, _every day_. So screw you, asshat."

"I've had enough. Would you kindly finish stealing our food and leave? That is what Americans do best, isn't it? Take things that rightfully belong to the British Empire?" Malfoy said with a smirk.

Elvorfindra and Védith had no reply and turned on their heels, heading back to their table. But they hadn't walked four feet before Draco drawled, "Merlin knows we could kick the Yanks' asses at Quidditch. Even if they do steal, lie, and cheat."

"And what gives you that idea? At least our sports teams aren't a bunch of white boys nancing around like a bunch of little girls in short-shorts," Védith snapped, marching right back up to him with Elvorfindra in tow.

"Is that so?" Zabini spoke up for the first time, clearly nonplussed why their very existence.

"Damn right it is, we could kick your asses any time at football," Elvorfindra retorted.

"Football? Ha! We don't play Muggle sports here," Zabini replied lazily.

"No wonder, you're afraid you'll lose," Védith replied with a harsh laugh.

"Not bloody likely!" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Right, do you even know what basketball, baseball, or American football are? Arizona Diamondbacks? Boston Celtics? Pittsburgh Steelers? I didn't think so. You're all just a bunch prejudiced snot-nosed asswipes who shudder at the thought of taking one step outside your silver-spooned comfort zones," Elvorfindra snapped, angry that these douche bags were preventing her from enjoying a nice meal.

"But wouldn't you barrack for the Washington Redskins?" another voice suddenly asked. All eyes traced back to a dark-haired Slytherin.

"Éville, what are you on about?" Draco ventured nervously.

"They are a team, aren't they?" He turned to Védith and Elvorfindra.

"Yeah, we don't go for the Redskins because they suck, terribly. But...how did you know about them?" Elvorfindra stepped towards him, pleasantly surprised.

"I went to America once when I was younger. I found a love for football because cricket's completely tiresome, although Quidditch is alright," Scott replied nonchalantly, still working on his dinner.

Suddenly the table went very quiet and not even the clank of dishes could be heard. It was as if everyone had been frozen. That is, aside from Védith and Elvorfindra.

"Really? Whereabouts in the U.S. did you go?" Védith's eyes were animated.

"I went with my father when I was about ten, just before I came to school. I believe we went to California and New York," Scott said and looked up from his plate.

Strange, Draco thought to himself. Scott never mentioned his father. Then again, he never mentioned anybody. He scarcely knew what the bloke's voice sounded like. Why he of all people would decide to talk to a couple of Muggle-borns was beyond him.

"That's so cool. I don't think we got your name. I'm Elvorfindra and this Védith," Elvorfindra introduced them with a sincere smile and an outstretched hand.

"I'm Scott, pleasure to meet you," he said and gave her hint of a smile.

Scott? Smile? The two words didn't belong in the same sentence Draco thought, bewildered. Fine, so it wasn't a full-blown grin, just the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. But still. Scott never spoke to anybody unless out of necessity and why were these two broads talking to him? He was creepy and had a sinister look about him. Draco might be the same way, but Scott was definitely something more...dangerous. Draco wasn't the only one to think so.

"Well, we should be going, see you. Bye, Bleachie! Get some hair dye to cover up that horrible accident of yours!" Védith called, carting a protesting Elvorfindra away.


	4. Hunkasaurus

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: One important thing to note is that I messed with the traditional HP timeline. According to various sources, Harry's 7th year is supposed to take place from 1997-1998. My fic is happening somewhere around 2009 or 2010. Back in the day, I set it in 2001 and 2002, but I would really rather not try to remember what 1998 or 2001 were like. Sooo, now it's a little more current. Enjoy! **

Chapter 4: _Hunkasaurus_

"First Years! Follow me! This way if you don't want to have a stare down with Filch and Mrs. Norris!" Kevin Entwhistle, Ravenclaw's prefect, announced when dinner finally wrapped up. "That includes you, Black-Ness and Starsley!"

"I'm sure it can't be that hard to find the common room. After all, we are Ravenclaws now; we're supposed to be witty and intelligent-like. Leave it to us, we'll find it all right," Elvorfindra assured him with a patronizing smile.

"Flitwick's orders. Not mine. Come along, or do I have to lead you out by your ears?" Entwhistle asked as he shepherded his charges out of the Hall.

"Goddamn that teeny midgety professor and his ugly henchman." Elvorfindra scowled.

"For your information, he's a human with a dash of goblin blood, but that is irrelevant because we need to get to the common room before it gets to be too late. Come on now, chop chop!" Entwhistle clapped his hands and with a pompous look on his face. Védith sighed and dragged Elvorfindra along once again.

"Chop chop? Really?" Védith rolled her eyes at him as they passed.

"Ugh, he does know that we're not ten and retarded, right?" Elvorfindra huffed.

"Well these Ravenclawas are supposed to be smart, but you never know," Védith shrugged.

They eventually found themselves at the top of a drafty tower, Entwhistle at the front of the group. They reached a door that actually failed to be a door in many respects because it didn't have a handle or a keyhole. The wood was aged and white in color, but the paint was old and peeling. There was, however, a polished bronze knocker shaped like an eagle. Entwhistle knocked on the not-door and waited.

The eagle looked up at the group and quietly asked, "What is very large with a small mind and can only be seen at night?"

"Entwhistle's mother because she's uglay!" Védith and Elvorfindra exclaimed in unison.

"That is correct," the eagle answered serenely.

"HAHA, mothafucka!" Elvorfindra laughed at Entwhistle's horrified expression.

He stood there frozen, glaring at the eagle knocker as the two girls sauntered inside the dormitory. The Ravenclaw first years followed suit, leaving Entwhislte alone. He continued to glare at the bronze eagle before hissing at it, "We are _going_ to have a talk about this later."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Have a good evening," it said airily. Entwhistle clenched his jaw, entered the common room, and slammed the door shut behind him.

The first years and the Americans stood in the middle of the room, taking everything in. The air was warm from the bright fire in the hearth. It seemed to be the only color in the gray and blue room. The cold stone walls were covered with decorative various decorative fabrics of gray, blue, black, and a little white here and there. Large navy couches and fluffy armchairs were seated near the fire and a dim crystal light fixture hung from the ceiling. On either side of the large room were staircases that presumably led up to the dormitories. The girls ran their hands over the smooth railings, but were snapped from their reveries when Entwhistle cleared his throat.

"Good night to you all, and I hope you sleep well. Black-Ness, Starsley, over here." He snapped and pointed at the carpet just in front of him. They made their way over like guilty children and just when they were beginning to wonder what he wanted, he shoved a pile of clothes into each of their arms.

"These are your uniforms, please make sure you actually wear them. We have a dress code here and the uniforms are included in it. Teachers tend to take off points from the house if you are dressed incorrectly. Both Professor Flitwick and I will make sure you adhere to this rule. Good night," and with that he turned on his heel and started for his own room.

"Nosy little retard, wouldn't know fashion sense if it fucked him in the ear," Védith spat.

"I know, he's a giant asshat, but let's find our room. I'm zonked out from jetlag." Elvorfindra smiled and pulled her friend towards the stairs.

"Védith, Elvorfindra, over here!" two girls' heads popped out from a room and called them over.

"We roomin' with you?" Elvorfindra smiled when they nodded their heads.

"I'm Lisa, Lisa Turpin, and this is Mandy Brocklehurst," a tall, thin brunette grinned at them and pointed at a slightly shorter strawberry-blonde.

"Nice to meet you," Elvorfindra said. "So, where're we crashin'?" She glanced around the spacious room.

The walls were a bare white, but they looked welcoming in the glow of several flickering candles that hung in midair, like they did in the Great Hall. There were four canopy beds strewn across area with curtains of a deep royal blue and sheets of a soft faded grey. Lisa sat on a bed closest to the left-hand wall, while Mandy dug through a trunk that was in front of her bed. The room's best feature was a large bay window that looked out over the jagged mountains and the Forbidden Forest. Surprisingly, they didn't look too malicious at that time of night. Elvorfindra walked away from the relaxing view and found her trunk by the foot one of the beds. She noticed that Védith could be found jumping around on a mattress right next to hers.

"Girl, you gotta try this! I think they're extra springy in the UK!" she sang.

"Get down from there before you do something dumb," Elvorfindra dismissed her with a wave of her hand, successfully gaining the appearance of a worrisome mother hen.

"No come on, you gotta try this— WHAAAA!" Védith appeared a few moments later, crawling on the floor with disheveled hair.

"Nice job, dumbass," Elvorfindra laughed and helped her up. The two girls turned to find Lisa and Mandy biting their lips from blurting something out.

"Yes?" Védith raised a brow at them.

"Well, you're probably tired from the trip and all, but we just wanted to know what America was like? Especially the Muggles," Mandy said shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Is that all? Well it's—" Elvorfindra cut Védith off.

"Whoa, no. It's not all what it's cracked up to be. Especially when an idiotic monkey left behind an economic crisis that will basically make it impossible for us to get jobs when we graduate. Not to mention that the current president is having a bitch of a time cleaning up that monkey's turds," Elvorfindra ranted while she searched her trunk for some pajamas.

"She really doesn't like Bush," Védith whispered behind her hand.

"Don't like? Ha! That's an understatement," she grumbled.

"The economy has to turnaround eventually." Védith sighed. This had to be the umpteenth time she had heard these rants.

"Well of course it will! That's what I've been trying to say," Elvorfindra snapped.

"Well, Fudge isn't so great either," Lisa nodded in understanding. "First You-Know-Who wasn't back, but then he was, now he isn't. Things have been fine for a while now, so we can't complain too much, but it's still weird. It seems like the Ministry of Magic is still pretty dependent on Dumbledore."

"Yeah, so I've heard. At least we're in the safest place possible." Védith shrugged.

"What do you mean? Safe from what? You-Know-Who is _gone_," Mandy said.

"You got me," Elvorfindra replied.

"Sorry?" Lisa had a mystified expression set upon her face.

"I don't know. As usual, our mothers are insane. They didn't think Latinka's was a good 'fit' for us and probably wouldn't be helpful with job placement after graduation, which is probably true. And they were worried about the weapons and bomb threats at school. Didn't think we were safe."

"Which seems like bullshit," Védith interjected, "Because we were there for six years with no problems."

"Except for that one time with the switchblade," Elvorfindra conceded.

"Oh yeah," Védith said, tracing over a scar on her forearm. "Right, except for that one time with the switchblade."

Lisa and Mandy looked horrified.

"Another option was Wizardo Escuela in Tijuana, but we don't know no Espanola either. Well, okay, fine. I know how to say 'Yo tengo mi pantalones,' but that's it. Also, no offense to the Mexican school system, but seriously? Why would that be any better than Latinka's?" Elvorfindra said as she pulled her shirt over her head and changed into her pajamas.

"Yeah, so our moms decided that Hogwarts was probably best anyway. They explained the situation to Dumbledore, who surprisingly let us in. So now they're renting some flat in London so they can see us through our final year," Védith said, playing with the floor's beige carpeting. "Still kind of annoying to just up and transplant us willy-nilly like that."

"But what about your dads?" Lisa seemed nervous about treading on the subject.

"Noticed that we didn't mention 'em, huh? Well, Védith's mom is a dumbass and got herself knocked up at some club in her twenties. My mom's an even bigger dumbass and decided that it would be comforting for Védith's mom if she got pregnant too. Went to a sperm bank the same week and got a donor. Therefore, we never knew 'em," Elvorfindra explained and then laughed kind of sadly. Lisa's mouth formed a small 'O' and nodded her head, but didn't seem to actually understand.

"Wait— what happened to your, your accents?" Mandy did a double take.

"What accents?" Védith looked up from her trunk.

"The Wannabe Black Girl ones," Elvorfindra stretched out on her warm bed. "And to be fair, they're not accents. According to linguists, it is a legitimate linguistic dialect."

"Oh _those_. It's after-hours dear. We don't bother with those when there's no one to piss off. It's not fun otherwise," Védith explained and sat up on her bed, ready to take off her makeup.

"Oh," Lisa and Mandy said in unison, slightly confused.

"It's okay, you'll get used to us. We're not that weird." Elvorfindra put her hair into a ponytail and grinned.

"Yeah, so now spill. Who're the hotties around here?" Védith pressed her new roommates for details.

Lisa and Mandy seemed relived that there was actually some common ground they could cover.

"Oh! Okay, we'll point them out in the corridors later, but we'll drop you a few names anyway. In Ravenclaw, Terry Boot isn't too bad, but he's not very...what's the word? Smooth. There's also Steve Cornfoot, hello!" Mandy warmed up to the subject easily.

"But you want to stay away from Michael Corner. He's is definitely very cute, but—" Lisa started.

"Girl, no. Cute is not the word to describe Michael Corner! I've seen that kid! The word is hunkasaurus!" Védith nodded with wide eyes.

"He may be hot, but he has a reputation to ditch them after they've had a pash," Lisa continued.

"What about the other houses?" Elvorfindra tried to sound nonchalant, but Védith suspected she was waiting for a specific name from a certain house. The name and the house maybe both starting with S?

"Well in Hufflepuff—" Mandy tried to continue, but to no avail.

"There are actually other hot guys in Hufflepuff? Ha! Are you serious?" Védith's jaw dropped.

"Well Michael Corner's a Hufflepuff..." Lisa trailed off.

"Are you serious?" Védith's eyes popped out of their sockets. Elvorfindra gave up on the conversation and steered her thoughts in a different direction. Scott Éville's direction. There was definitely something about him. Nobody noticed that she had fallen asleep with a small smile on her face.


	5. Scott Eville's Dawgs

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing but for the characters with weird names that don't seem familiar. **

Chapter 5: _Scott Éville's Dawgs _

Halfway through reading his new Defense Against The Dark Arts book, Mulberry's Guide To The Dark Arts and How to Deflect Them, she wafted into his head again. He almost groaned in frustration, but he couldn't let the others see him like this. It would blow his cover. Nobody had any idea, did they? A grim smile tugged at Scott's mouth. The others in the common room looked at him, blatant perplexity written all over their faces like vulgar graffiti. Scott stood up from his seat on an armchair and walked toward the door. He was pretty sure a couple of people moved a few feet away from him. It felt good to be feared. Nobody bothered him if things were that way.

"And where do you think you're going, Éville?" Malfoy smirked, his prefect's badge gleaming in the firelight. Nobody bothered him if things were that way. Except for fucking Draco Malfoy. Normally Malfoy was smart enough to stay away from Scott, but he suspected that Malfoy had gotten even dumber over the summer, if that was even possible. Scott guessed Malfoy was just too dense and ignorant to see that he was clearly dangerous.

"I don't think it pertains to you," his voice was cold. He was pretty sure he heard a few people shiver. Yep, his voice was definitely cold, just the way he liked it.

"Oh, but I think it does. Especially since Snape would find your whereabouts rather interesting," Draco drawled and walked towards Scott. No matter what his father said, he refused to befriend the prat. Malfoy was too easy to defeat.

Right. Like Snape would really give two shits that he was out after curfew.

"Tell him what you like. You can make up some song and dance story that I went off to go have a pash with some girl. He'd like that one." Scott winked and swiftly made his way out the door, leaving Draco with no rebuttal. If only he really was off going to have a pash with some girl. Well, not some girl, _her_.

Scott walked from the cold expanse of the dungeons and he defrosted in the warm corridors of the first floor. Finally, those idiots were out of his way and he was free to roam the castle as he wished. Just when he was heading for a stairwell on his right, he froze and listened to the voice that exploded into the air.

"What's that my sweet? You smell a student out of bed! Ah yes, Mrs. Norris, this is what I've been waiting for all night. This will make my week!" The raspy cackle of Argus Filch filled the air, along with a purr from his cat. Scott sighed and leaned against the stone wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Soon he felt Mrs. Norris' warm body rubbing up against his leg. He bent over and picked the cat up.

"How are you Mrs. Norris? Doing well I hope." The smallest hint of a smile formed on his lips, but his eyes remained ice.

"Oh it's just you, Scott," Filch grunted.

"Just me?" Scott scoffed, though he was not offended.

"Oh you know how much I love putting someone in detention."

"I know, I know. That, and hanging people upside-down by their ankles," Scott said, putting Mrs. Norris back on the ground.

"You know me too well. It's good to see you, boy. Care to join us on our patrol?" Filch's rotten teeth stuck out as he laughed.

"You know I always do. Caught anyone yet?" Scott walked alongside him.

"Yeah, I found a couple of Hufflepuffs trying to break into the library to find the homework they left there. Dolts," Filch barked with laughter.

"God, Hufflepuffs? Damn beavers, badgers. Whatever they are," Scott scoffed.

Their bright conversation gradually lost its momentum and they fell silent; the only sound was an occasional mewl from Mrs. Norris and Scott shuffling his feet along the carpeted floor.

"What's wrong, boy? Awfully quiet for once. Usually you're ranting about how somebody's an idiot or a git," Filch frowned.

"It's just...nothing," Scott sighed, wondering if he should just go to bed.

"Who is she? Not that Granger, I hope. Brain-dead that one is," the poor excuse for a custodian snarled.

"Lord, no! Granger looks like a frizzball Hufflepuff mascot, she does. This one, she's— wait. How did you...? Damnit." He kicked the nearest wall. Mrs. Norris looked up at him with laughter in her eyes. She knew too.

"You slip up when you let a girl affect you like that. You can't hide now, may as well tell me who it is," Argus said, chuckling

"Piss off. Agh, she's new this year..."

"You're after first years now? Merlin! You're eighteen, that's feral! Scott, no—" Mrs. Norris didn't let the old janitor finish. She jumped up into Filch's arms and swatted him on the nose with her paw. Scott laughed; it had been awhile since he had laughed.

"No, she's new to the school, she's a seventh year too, she's—" Filch continued for him.

"Elvorfindra Starsley, I know. I saw the way you were looking at her," he said with a vigorous nod.

"I wasn't that obvious, was I?" Scott grew alarmed.

"No, no, don't worry, boy. Most people can't read you like I do."

"What am I supposed to do about it? I can't just go up to her or anything without messing up my reputation," Scott mumbled.

"Why are you always so damn concerned about your bloody reputation? You're about as bad as Malfoy and his little clan." Argus rolled his eyes.

"I have my reasons," he muttered and thought of his father.

"Well don't worry about it now, it's late. You need to get some rest," Argus said after glancing at his tarnished pocket watch that he had likely pilfered from some student.

"I've stayed out later before." Scott raised a challenging brow at the man.

"You don't want to look tired and worn out for Elvorfindra, now do you?" Argus laughed and pushed Scott towards the dungeons. "Don't worry, boy. The first day hasn't even started. Your secret is safe with me. We'll talk about it tomorrow night."

**Haha, Filch. What a mind fuck, yeah?**


	6. Uniforms, ha!

**11/2010**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I think I'm getting close to where I stopped posting last time! But fear not; I've been writing new material. Oh, I am way too old for this. Ah, well.**

Chapter 6: _Uniforms, ha! _

"Findra, what classes're you takin'?" Védith elbowed Elvorfindra. She turned her head to find her best friend staring at someone. Pulling a large gold Jesus chain from her neck, Védith waved the necklace in front of Elvorfindra's face and tried to catch her attention. "FINDRA!" she yelled.

"Huh? What?" She tore her gaze from the Slytherin table.

"I axxed you a question, what classes are you taking?" she repeated.

"Read it for yourself." Elvorfindra dropped the card in Védith's lap and shoveled some eggs into her mouth.

"Let us see, let us see…" Védith began mumbling incoherently to herself as she scanned her friend's schedule. Then, "Care of Magical Creatures? I got that too. With Hagrid? The hell is that?"

"Dunno." Elvorfindra shrugged.

"Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lupin? Who?"

"You're bad at listening. He was that guy...the new teacher..." she said, still half asleep and way too preoccupied with Scott.

"Ick, Potions on a Friday afternoon? Laaaame," Védith gagged.

Elvorfindra laughed. "And what do _you_ have?" She snatched Védith's card from her hands.

Védith peered over her shoulder. "Damn, we have most of our classes together? Holy crap, we got lucky this year."

"Fo' real. No Divination for you?"

"I heard the teacher's a retard," Védith said mildly as she examined her hair in the reflection of her pumpkin juice goblet.

"So you're taking fricking Arithmancy? Ha! Have fun, boo," Elvorfindra laughed.

"I will. At least it's not all vague and 'maybe,' 'maybe not.'"

"Oh whatever. You know you check your horoscope in _The Quibbler_ every morning," she goaded.

"Quit makin' up lies. Anyway, come on, we'se gonna be late if we don't hurry the hell up," Védith gulped down her remaining juice and grabbed Elvorfindra by the arm.

"But wait—" she started.

"You can stare at Scott Éville later, I already found out what classes he has for you. Now come on!" Védith hissed in her ear.

"How did you...?"

"I'm not _blind_," Védith laughed when Elvorfindra scoffed at her. "Okay, so I am. But that's what contacts are for. Now I don't want to be late on our first day when there are so many new people to harass. Let's go!" And with that they bolted down the corridors towards their Charms class.

The two girls strolled into the room with plenty of time to spare. Professor Flitwick was hunched over what seemed to be a lesson plan and didn't notice all of his students milling inside. He was a tiny man with a fuzzy white beard. He had bright, wide green eyes and colorful robes. When the bell rang, he approached a stool in the middle of the room and climbed up onto it. Once standing and ready to teach his class, he went about taking attendance. As his eyes grazed over the classroom, they went wide in horror when they fell upon Védith Black-Ness and Elvorfindra Starsley.

"Miss Black-Ness! Miss Starsley! W-w-what _are_ you wearing?" he stuttered incredulously. The class turned to the two girls and burst out with laughter.

"Uniforms." Védith assured him innocently.

"Could you please _fix_ them?" Flitwick looked increasingly distressed with each moment that passed.

The two girls wore blue and gray ties as belts around gray skirts that had either been cut or torn to an indecent length. They wore mismatching shoes on each foot and their black robes were tied in such a way that made them look more like superhero capes than school robes. Their navy blue V-neck sweaters were cut to their midriffs, yet they wore their house scarves, well, like scarves.

"I don't see why we need to fix them; we are in uniform, aren't we? Isn't that all that matters? That is what Entwhistle said, wasn't it?" Elvorfindra turned to the prefect behind them for confirmation.

"That's not what I meant," he said between gritted teeth.

"Sorry! We didn't know!" Védith giggled. Professor Flitwick said nothing more out of pure shock and passed out the year's syllabus, though he occasionally emitted bewildered squeaks whenever he happened to look in the direction of the Americans.

When class ended, everybody milled out of the classroom except for Védith and Elvorfindra. Professor Flitwick had asked Védith to stay after class for a few moments.

"Professor, if you're gonna punish her, at least punish me too. It's not like the uniforms were completely her idea. We _both_ did it. I think—" Elvorfindra had started to defend her, but the short, graying man cut her off.

"No, no. It is not about that. Please do not worry. Move along to your next class, dear, or you'll be late. Védith will be there shortly," Professor Flitwick assured her.

"Véd, you sure?" Elvorfindra eyed her friend.

"I'll be there in a sec." Védith nodded and smiled in return.

Elvorfindra shrugged and made her way down to the dungeons. She shivered in her chilled surroundings and grudgingly took a seat next to some Gryffindor. Guess she and Védith would have to sit separately.

"Hi," he grinned, staring at her uniform— or lack thereof. "I'm Seamus, Seamus Finnigan."

"Findra Starsley, how are ya?" She nodded at him in acknowledgement and fished through her bag for her books. He took out a roll of parchment and began writing his name down and started to copy down what was written on the board.

"Izzat how you write your name?" She leaned over his paper.

"Uhm...yes." Seamus smiled feebly, not quite able to tear his eyes away from her chest.

"Oh okay, I must've misheard. Your name ain't Shamus, it's See-mousse," Elvorfindra said and nodded in understanding.

He shook himself from her breast spell to correct her. "No, no, it's spelled that way, but it's pronounced Shay-mus," he explained.

"Is that Scottish?" she asked as she preoccupied herself with skimming her potions books.

"No, no, it's..._Irish_," he said, visibly reddening in irritation.

"Same thing," she replied loftily.

The nib on Seamus' quill broke.

"Well, do you care if I call you See-mousse?" Findra turned to him.

"But, my name is Seamus. Shay-muss." Seamus' voice was quiet, but his cheeks were flaming red.

"Oh. Are you sure? 'Cause it sounds so much cooler if I call you See-mousse! See-mousse. Haha, Seeeee-mouuussse," she giggled to herself.

"But—" Seamus' distressed plea was cut off as the bell rang. By then, Védith still hadn't bothered to show up. Elvorfindra frowned, but listened to the swish of black robes that was her teacher stride to the front of the room.

"As seventh years, with your N.E.W.T.S. coming up, I expect that you were responsible enough to do the summer reading..." Professor Snape's voice faded in Elvorfindra's head.

She glanced around the room. There was a lively collection of inspired young children watching their brilliant teacher in awe and waiting for him to enlighten them. Okay, so that was an overstatement. Everyone looked like they'd rather have a bludger shoved up their asses and the teacher needed some Clearasil badly on that oily, hooked nose of his. He didn't look the least bit inspiring and had a grimace on his face that just screamed "Did a hobo pee in my classroom last night?" He cleared his throat and raised a brow. It was then she realized that Professor Snape was talking to her.

"Huh?" She smiled nervously.

"You need blue-striped leech juice and the mane of a lionfish in order to sharpen the sense of smell for the Cognition Potion," Seamus Finnigan covered for Evlorfindra before Hermione could blurt out the answer. She looked absolutely distraught at his correct reply.

"Miiis-ter_ Finnigan_, do you look like a Caucasian American who thinks she's African-American? I believe she can—" Elvorfindra cut Professor Snape off.

"Boooy, I can answer my own damn questions, thanks. But that's beside the point. Who in hell would use leech juice and the spine of a friggin' lionfish for a Cognition Potion? That must taste like some shit," she scoffed.

"Miss Starsley, this is not the culinary institute. This is Potions. Ten points from Ravenclaw for being a pain in my ass," and with that Professor Snape turned and stalked back towards the front of the class. The Slytherins in the class sniggered, eyeing Elvorfindra disparagingly.

"Leech juice? Lionfish spine? For a Cognition Potion? Giiiiirl...naw, naw," she continued to shake her head disbelievingly.

"What? Do you think there is another way of doing it? Would prefer to teach the class yourself?" Snape snarled, but was cut off when Védith burst in the door.

"Shoot, son, lionfish spine and leech juice in a Cognition Potion? Giiirl, that's naaasty," Védith gagged.

"Ah, Miss Black-Ness. So nice of you to drop in," Snape said with a roll of his eyes.

"What...I gots a pass!" she waved a pink slip in the air like a victory flag.

He walked over to her, his dark robes flaring behind him, and seized the note.

"What you 'gots to do' is take a seat," he imitated her accent. Shaking his head, he crumpled up the paper and chucked it in the trashcan. "Not excused, it was a fake," he yawned at his class while Védith was just taking a seat. She dropped her bag and stared up at him with her jaw hanging open.

"'Scuse me? What's that you say?" she asked, feigning deafness.

"Are you deaf or just stupid?" he roared. The rest of the class looked slightly taken aback, but Védith continued to hold her ground.

"Are you bliiiind or just a moron?" She grabbed the rosy note from the garbage and thrust it back into his hands.

"You go girl!" Elvorfindra cheered.

"I know a fake when I see one," he retorted. He turned his back to her and began writing his lesson up on the board.

"Girl, my handwriting may look like chickenscratch, but it don't look like this loopy shiz for a niz!" Védith glowered.

"Miss Black-Ness, sit. I have a class to teach. I won't hear anymore of your incessant whining!" Snape waved her off. "Another ten points from Ravenclaw. And just for acting like you're black when you're not, I'm giving you a det—" he never finished. A loud ringing was suddenly heard throughout the room. Well no, ringing is not the right word. The tune for "Shaft" was blaring and it seemed to be coming from Védith's bag.

"Oh shit, that's me!" she cried and dove for her desk. Védith brushed her blonde hair from her eyes and picked up a small vibrating phone.

"'Lo?" she answered.

"Miss Black-Ness—" Snape's eyes flared with anger.

"Sh! Sh! I can't hear! Findra, check it out, it's LaMonica!" She stuck a finger in the air to silence her professor.

"Really? Girl! Tell her I say, 'heeeeyyy!'" Elvorfindra grinned.

"How you doin' girl? I'm aight, I'm aight...Nothin'. I'm just in Potions class right now," Védith yawned and sat down.

Professor Snape looked absolutely murderous. He glared at his pupil and made a move to take her phone, but she was too quick. Blind to his frustration, she had walked over to the corner of the classroom, where the nearest fraction of a window was.

"Girl, you're cuttin' out. I can't hear you. There's like no reception in these triflin'-ass dungeons. Say that again? Can you hear me now?" she took a step to the left. "Can you hear me now?" she took a step to the right. "Can you hear me now? Cool, cool. What? Tomorrow? Shoot, girl, I can't go to the mall. I gots class! Didn't I tell you? I transferred! Yeah, yeah, Hogwarts. Mmhhm. Aight, aight. I'll talk to you later, peace!" and with that she hung up the phone.

Védith took a glance around the classroom. Hermione was flipping furiously through Hogwarts: A History, Elvorfindra was stifling a laugh, Professor Snape looked like he had just shat a brick— twice, and the rest of the class looked stunned.

Coming back to his senses, Snape glowered at Védith and made a motion for her to sit in her seat.

"What do you want now? Seriously, I ain't got time for this," she said and shook her head.

"Fifty points from—" but he froze.

He was looking at her neck and the golden chain that encircled it. It gleamed slightly in the dim light, and a small, flat, blue charm with a small silver 'M' emblazoned on it rested against her pale skin. Then suddenly the bell rang, as if to awake everyone from a reverie, and the class trailed out of the room. Elvorfindra waited for Védith out of curiosity and uncertainty, but Snape merely dismissed them both without punishment.

"Just be prepared for class tomorrow, you fools," he said, casting them aside.

"Uh, okay, that was weird," Elvorfindra furrowed her brow as they wandered down a congested corridor.

"Yeah, just a bit," Védith agreed. She bit her lip and fiddled with her necklace absentmindedly.

"He was probably disgusted at your asinine antics and couldn't find the words to describe your idiocy," a voice snarled.

"Malfoy, go home," Elvorfindra brushed him off.

"Is that the best you could come up with?" he laughed in disbelief. Védith stopped and put her arms on his shoulders. "Don't touch me, you feral piece of—"

"Malfoy, dear? Take some of my advice," she stated in a calm voice.

"And what would that be?" he sighed with boredom in his eyes.

"Kill. Yourself. Like as soon as possible," she deadpanned, batting wide and innocent eyes.

She removed her hands from his shoulders and walked off towards the Ravenclaw common room with Elvorfindra. Harry, Hermione, and Ron who were nearby howled with laughter. Draco stalked off with his books in hand, scowling.

"Védith, Elvorfindra!" Harry suddenly called.

"Punkass P!" they said in unison. He winced at the name, but he, Ron, and Hermione caught up with them anyway.

"Hey, what's up?" Elvorfindra smiled.

"Nothing, brilliant show with Malfoy back there," Ron nodded.

"Thanks," Védith's eyes danced with mischief. "What a retard."

"Def," Elvorfindra sighed in agreement.

"So where are you headed?" Harry asked, shifting the weight of his pens and quills under his arms.

"Common room," Elvorfindra nodded her head in the general direction of the Ravenclaw tower.

"Food," Védith replied at exactly the same moment. Ron seemed to love this idea as well.

"I could use some dinner rolls with some of that melted butter," he said and his eyes immediately glazed over.

"Most def, yo. And some of that pumpkin juice. Mm, giiirl, _yes!_" Védith could see a goblet of the drink in front of her.

"So what are—" Hermione interrupted Elvorfindra.

"Védith, I must know how you that mobile phone to work. I've been looking everywhere for an answer in Hogwarts: A History, but I cannot for the life of me deduce what you did to that phone. Muggle appliances shouldn't work here! It's _against_ the laws of nature," she blurted. Védith turned her head to Hermione who had been quiet since the conversation began and laughed.

"Riiight, just like paintings that move are against the laws of nature, or the fact that people can fly on broomsticks. All of that's against the laws of nature, right? Hermione, it's called a Reinforced-Frequency Charm. It wears off after a few days, but it's not too difficult to do," Védith explained.

"But—" she cut a rather confused Hermione off.

"It's simple. We can try it later if you want. You tap your wand against whatever it is you're charming three times and all you have to say is: _hegamertz a bene placito_. You got it?" Védith showed her the movements with her wand as she held out her cell phone.

"Yes, I suppose," she said, although she seemed unconvinced.

"Girl, it ain't no different from _Alohamora_ or _Accio_," Elvorfindra assured her.

"Thanks." Hermione smiled, still looking unsettled.

"Let me come to lunch with you, and I'll explain it in full detail. Findra, you comin' with?" Védith turned to her friend.

"Nah, I feel like I should start on some of this work already," she answered, adjusting the strap on her already laden book bag.

"You're loss. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Peace, Miss Lady!" Elvorfindra waved at Védith and to quote the Sugar Hill Gang, the Treacherous Trio.

"We'll see you at dinner, Findra." Ron waved to her as they turned in separate directions.

"You can have some of our collard greens!" Harry called.

"Girl, I woulda taken 'em even if you hadn't offered!" Elvorfindra laughed.


	7. A Little Chat with Daddy Dearest

**11/2010**

**A/N: More reposting. Sigh. Again, sorry if this messes with your alerts!**

Chapter 7: _A Little Chat with Daddy Dearest_

"Caramelized onions, Findra. Findra! They have caramelized ooonnioons!" Védith swatted at Elvorfrindra's arm incessantly in her excitement.

The two girls decided that pilfering food from the other houses' tables was going to be a tradition during dinner. It was the only time there was a variety between the dishes. They were currently at the Slytherin table, helping themselves to yes, caramelized onions.

"Wonderful, to make your breath reek even more than it already does," Malfoy said, pretending to gag.

"Piss off, Malfoy," Védith snapped.

"I know this might be odd for you Brits, but in the US, we brush thrice a day and floss at night," Elvorfindra snapped. "Go choke on that," she threw him an entire pack of wintergreen gum.

"Bloody hell, you think you can nance in here and—" Védith cut him off.

"Shut it, Malfoy. Nobody cares. Like nobody. So unless you feel like sucking on my tit, just shut your fuckin' face," she snapped. Elvorfindra nearly dropped her plate from laughing too hard and Malfoy's eyes rounded in shock.

By the time he finally came up with a retort, they had already made their way to the Gryffindor table. Malfoy seethed; he couldn't believe Scott was attracted to one of those heathens.

"Hey," Elvorfindra and Védith greeted in unison and sat on either side of Ron.

"What'd you do to Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes went wide and couldn't help but grin.

"I just shut him up for a bit," Védith replied simply and served herself some mashed potatoes.

"You used the 'silencio' spell? I thought he'd be faster to retaliate than that. I don't know why I overestimate him so much," Harry said, grinning.

"No, no, with this," Elvorfindra pointed to her head.

"Honestly, you kids depend too much on this magic crap," Védith said, eyeing the three Gryffindors.

"Oh whatever, magic or no, I'm just glad this year is finally normal." Ron sighed in relief and glanced at Harry. He nodded his head vigorously in agreement after stuffing some roasted chicken in his mouth.

"Voldemort's— sorry," he apologized at and Ron's wince, "Uh, I mean, Big Man V is finally out of my hair, and nobody is trying to kill me this year. I can be normal," Harry beamed at his last sentence.

"With _them _around? I think not," Ron said and pointedly looked at Védith and Elvorfindra. He sputtered and emitted a small yelp when he received a distinct smack upside the head from Elvorfindra.

"But you know what I mean," Harry said and twirled some pasta onto his fork.

"It's true. We won't have to deal with constant threats to get expelled," Hermione agreed, tucking some of her bushy hair behind her ears.

"We may be at a disadvantage though," Ron's ears turned red.

"How?" Harry turned back to him.

"Every year, we do something extraordinary, and we get heaps of House Points. We'll actually need to try this year to win the House Cup," he said with a worried look.

"You're a dingbat." Elvorfindra rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Thanks for the food, see you later," Védith said and waved as the two headed back to the Ravenclaw table.

Several minutes later, Védith looked up from her plate. Barbeque sauce was smeared across her cheek, and she was munching on the remnants of her delicious short ribs. Her mountain of food that had towered on her plate uneasily a few moments ago was now down to an anthill. As for Elvorfindra, she hadn't bothered to touch her food mound that was still threatening to avalanche onto the table. She was staring off into space with a faraway look on her face.

"You gonna eat that?" Védith pointed to Elvorfindra's hot fries. She shook her head and pushed her plate towards her hunger-stricken friend. Védith never thought twice about a plate of food being shoved in her face, but this time was different because usually Elvorfindra was scarfing a meal right down with her. An even bigger indicator that something was odd was that normally if anyone ever tried to get near Elvorfindra's fries, she'd smack their hand and kick them in the crotch.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Védith prodded at the dazed Elvorfindra. "Yoo-hoo! Findra!"

"Huh? What?" She seemed to snap out of her reverie, although her eyes were still rather glazed.

"Oh, it's _him_. Why don't you give him a blow job and just get it over with?" Védith suggested on a sigh.

Elvorfindra glanced at her and was only mildly surprised to see her wearing her pimp hat. No wonder. Védith's pimp hat was a ridiculous sort of thing and it usually came unexpectedly and out of nowhere. It was an oversized fedora a startling shade of magenta and there was a particularly long bright green feather protruding out of its side. Whenever she wore it, Védith ended up looking like an outrageously gaudy Dick Tracy. It was also quite dangerous to be around her when she wore her pimp hat. It meant that she was in a matchmaking mood. Not matchmaking per se, but rather— setting people up for a few quality minutes in the bathroom. It usually happened when she was PMSing.

Elvorfindra shook her head at Védith's antics and found herself staring at the Slytherin table for the umpteenth time that meal. She thought she heard Védith beseeching her from her thoughts again, but Elvorfindra refused to tear her gaze away this time. There was something about him. Scott Éville didn't seem to really talk to anybody. So mysterious, so dark, so...brooding. Sigh. Elvorfindra's mind rewound to that afternoon...

_She was in kind of a rush to get to the common room. Elvorfindra had a nice stack of work to do and she wanted to shove it aside and procrastinate as much as possible. Védith was having some lunch in the Great Hall, so she had to wander the corridors alone. This was rather unnerving for Elvorfindra because she definitely did not dig those moving staircases. One minute you were on your way to the South Tower and the next you found yourself in the dungeons! Also, Elvorfindra, gravity, and balance rarely cooperated to work with each other civilly. She had an awful tendency to tumble down the stairs ever so gracefully. This time was one of those times. _

_Elvorfindra wanted to reach solid ground as soon as possible, hoping no would see her little crash, but instead, she fell into _someone_. Scott Éville steadied her and smiled. There was a flicker of something devilish in his eye,s and she thought she might swoon. No! No swooning! Only little teenyboppers swoon! And they swoon over cheesy boy bands, not the brooding Scott Éville. Elvorfindra completely forgot about the rest of the room and smiled. She whispered a quiet thanks and continued on her way. And to think, before she had unwillingly left his arms, he had whispered in her ear "Anytime." Anytime? Anytime! AnyTIME! ANYtime. Anytime, anytime, anytime. She would relish the word forever more. Anytime! Anytime? Oh...he was that tall, dark, and handsome women yearn for at night. _

"Findra! _Hello?_ FINDRA!" Védith promptly snapped her arm with her linen napkin like it was a locker room towel. Elvorfindra blushed and apologized with a shy smile on her face.

"Good to see you've returned from cloud nine," Védith hissed. Elvorfindra blinked in response. "Now that you're listening, I wanted to tell you that I've heard shit about Éville."

"What kind of shit?" Elvorfindra furrowed her brow.

"There's only one kind of shit; it don't come in different flavors!"

"Well, if you want to get real specific, I would say that that's not true," Elvorfindra said, obviously thinking way too hard about it.

Védith rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying is to watch out for him. I've heard the kid is shady. There are plenty of other players in this school...maybe you want to go after them. I don't know, I mean, whatevs lands your plane..." Védith stuffed a bread roll in her mouth and watched the dark-haired and melancholic Slytherin silently contemplate his thoughts.

* * *

Once ensuring everyone had gone to their dormitories, Scott crept out of the common room and into the desolate hallway. Going unnoticed by the Bloody Baron, he padded though the castle and made his way outside. The night air felt cool against his skin. Only a few traces of summer still hung in the atmosphere and the red and gold leaves of autumn were already beginning to fall. He glanced up at the sheet of midnight blue sky, smiling sadly at the tiny bright stars. Cold dew drenched the grass, and the infamous giant squid stirred restlessly within the dark lake. The moon hung precariously on its perch in the sky. Scott sighed and leaned against a lonely looking oak.

"You rraaaang?" he drawled shrilly to seemingly no one in a falsetto Jeeves accent. Scott folded his arms over his chest and waited patiently. Just when it appeared to be that no one was there to reply, a tall figure slipped silently out of the Forbidden Forest. Scott raised a brow and waited for the man to come over. His father's features were pale and gaunt in the moonlight.

"Indeed I did," a wicked smiled splayed across his thin and dry lips. His once rich, brown hair was now a thinning rag on his head. However, the man's eyes had not changed. They were still dark orbs full of the coldness and evil Scott so clearly remembered.

"And..." Scott waited fro him to finish. "How can I be of service, Dad?" the last word fell off his tongue in a tangle of remorse. The man that was his father seemed to be drowning in his robes. Despite his frail-looking body, it was apparent that his strength was once again growing.

"Oh don't use such blasphemous and large words like that. Dad, pish-posh. It's Father to you. I came here for a reason." The older man ran his pale, bony fingers through his dark hair. Scott stared at him in silence, but he was starting to grow restless.

"I finally found some use for you, son," his father continued with a sappy sweetness flooding his voice.

"Is that so, Father?" Scott played along with the mindless banter.

"Yes, I don't know why I didn't think of it before," he admitted.

"And that would be...?" Scott yawned in response.

Merlin, he was taking his time. Some people wanted to get some sleep around here, but of course, the effect of how the news is delivered is always most important. At least it was to his father. Always about the fucking effect. To Scott it was a crock of shit.

"After all these years of having you stationed here incognito at Hogwarts, so as keep close tabs on what was going on here, I did not feel that you were ready for what I needed you to do to. That is, until now," his father stated as if that would explain it all.

"Huh?"

"Son, what I mean to say is..." his dry lips formed a wry smile, "kill Harry Potter," the decrepit old man stated with simplicity and finality lacing the three words. Laughter sprang from Scott's lips and invaded the midnight air.

"Kill? Harry? Potter? Kill Harry Potter? That's the funniest thing I've heard all day." Scott eyed his father incredulously.

"Wish you to keep your life or not?" the man snarled and thrust his wand at Scott's throat.

Fear crossed his face for a fraction of a moment, but it was soon replaced with mocking laughter. Shoving the wooden yew wand from his neck, Scott smiled and stared at his father with an arched brow to match.

"Forgive me," Scott said and formally bowed down to his father. "I did not mean to upset the all-powerful Dark Lord Voldemort," he waved his hand in the air as if to present himself for the first time.

"Cease thine words," his father spat at his son's sarcastic demeanor.

"Just tell me what you want me to do," Scott sighed and rubbed his red, exhausted eyes. Where was the Visine when you needed it?

"Kill Harry Potter," Voldemort stated once more.

"You were serious?" Scott's head shot up.

"Does this look like the face of a man who would _kid_ you?" Voldemort rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Apparently not," Scott's face grew sober, but his voice remained bored.

"I need you to kill Harry Potter as quickly and as quietly as possible," his father explained.

"Dad! Honestly, are you retarded or something? It's not as if his disappearance will go unnoticed. Aw, yeah, wonder where that Potter chap's gone off to, extended holiday, maybe? Yeah, that'll be quick and quiet. He's only one of the greatest heroes in the entire wizarding world because your sorry ass couldn't kill him!" he groaned in frustration at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was not in the least bit delighted at his son's behavior. Out of all the ninnies who were afraid to speak his name, his moronic son and that damnable Potter were the only ones in the entire world who didn't fear him. Okay, fine, so Dumbledore's knees didn't shake uncontrollably at the sight of him. Once you thought about it, those muddleheaded Muggles weren't afraid of him either. But the only reason they weren't frightened was because none of them knew who he was. Well, it wouldn't be long before he changed that. So that added up to four people: his own filthy son, Potter, Dumbledore, and the entire Muggle population. Preposterous! Those numbers were horrendous! Back in the dark ages, it couldn't have been any more than one or two. Terrible, despicable.

The only reason Scott didn't fear him was because he thought was just as dangerous and malevolent as he was. After all, they were father and son. The only problem was that Scott was always criticizing his demonic plans.

"_Dad, Harry Potter isn't going to be afraid of some heinous and disgusting baby. When can you get a real body?" _

"_Dad, you have to stop using piddling little servants who stutter too much." _

"_Dad, your design for the Dark Mark is obscenely ugly; the skull should have some shading and color to it. You know, liven it up a bit." _

"_Dad, tell your poxy Death Eater, Lucius, to cut his hair. I almost wanted to hit on him when I only saw him with his back turned." _

"_Dad, that whole terrorizing and leaving Potter threats is SO overdone. Just kill him already before he does you any more damage." _

"_Dad, why don't you just DIE already? You've tried to kill Potter _how_ many times now? Five? Six? Give up! You've failed. Nobody likes a sore loser..."_

There were countless critiques that always seemed to just fly out of Scott's mouth like bloody parrots.

"I suppose you're right," Voldemort ground out grudgingly. Those were THE four hardest words he had _ever_ uttered in his entire life. "Fine," he continued, "leave him threats and I'll kill him myself in some abandoned cave."

"That's what you've been trying to do for the past six years! Has it worked? Not quite!" Scott retorted, folding his arms over his chest. His father scowled and fell silent. Then suddenly he pointed his wand at Scott and yelled, "_Crucio__**!**_"

Voldemort's son fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The older man stood over him and laughed with malice flooding his voice. He crouched over to where he twisted in agony and snatched his collar.

"You will do as you're told, correct?" his father grinned as an insane happiness filled his eyes.

"Yes, Father," Scott spat the words. The Dark Lord lifted the curse and stood up.

"Now that we understand one another, I believe you have some work to do...Go on, now! Get to bed! I will owl you in a fortnight." Voldemort clapped his hands together delightfully. "Oh, and soooon?"

"Yes?" Scott eyed his father from the damp ground.

"Do try and befriend Draco Malfoy—"

"Are you kidding me? No! What a prat!" Scott's eyes rounded is disgust.

"Scott, son, if we're going to rage this little war on humanity, we need friends. The Malfoys are already some of our most trusted allies," he dismissed him.

"Ah— how about not? Draco Malfoy is an idiot who can't find his ass with both hands. I keep reminding him to 'remove head from sphincter, then speak', but he doesn't have a very good attention span—" Voldemort didn't let him finish.

"Do what I say, boy, or you'll be joining Potter's parents!" Voldemort pointed his wand in his face.

"You were an only child, weren't you?" Scott sighed.

"Be glad I don't kill you right now. Don't forget what I told you," and with that he disappeared back into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

"Bastard," Scott snapped. After untangling himself, he lay there in the grass for a few moments in a rumpled heap of robes. "I knew this was coming," he muttered. May as well get it over and done with.

* * *

_And old and busted up burgundy 1978 Ford LTD prowled the streets of Greenwich. Despite its dilapidated condition, the car still ran quite nicely and there was a tight bass system hooked up in the back. Blaring out of the speakers was DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince's song "Parents Just Don't Understand." Two men sat in the front of the car. One had jet-black hair, while the other possessed a chestnut brown mane. Both of their faces were hosting the day's growing stubble. The driver, with the black hair and chiseled features, suddenly snapped off the car's headlights and radio. He parked near a curb and opened his door. The two men turned to each other and nodded. "Let's go," the driver said and let his keys fall into his pocket with a chink._

Harry shot up in a cold sweat. He straightened in his bed and realized his scar was burning. It felt as though the skin that met at his scar was about to burst open and let blood seep down his forehead. After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, he rubbed his face and thought about the oddest dream he'd just had. Now fully conscious, he could barely remember it. Harry shook his head and tried to slip back into he realms of sleep, but it was a useless attempt. A feeling of foreboding and anxiety knotted in his stomach. There was no way the universe was going to let him go back to sleep that night. He groaned and shoved his glasses onto his nose. Unless...Harry nodded and jumped off his bed. He padded out of his frigid dorm room and into the expanse of warmth that was the Gryffindor common room. Perhaps sleep would come to him there.

Harry jumped onto the couch in front of the brightly burning fire and wrapped a red and gold blanket around himself. He had a stare-down with the dancing flames until he felt his eyes finally going droopy. Wonderful sleep at last.

"How picturesque," a voice laughed with menace. Harry jolted himself awake and gaped at the face invading the fireplace. Fear crept up his spine when he realized the identity of the face. Or rather, the lack thereof. Floating in front of him in the midst of green floo flames was the mask of a Death Eater. The face was white and daunting. A permanent sneer or scowl— Harry couldn't really tell which, was imprinted in its features. As a result, the mask was ominous and chilling, something that anyone in their right minds would stay away from, considering its lurid connotations.

"Who are you?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Let this be a warning to you...It seems to be that Professor's Trelawney's predictions are finally going to be realized this year," the cold voice ignored his demand.

"How do you mean?" he stared intently at the fire.

"What I _mean_," the Death Eater sighed in exasperation, "is don't be surprised if you don't wake up in the morning, Potter."

"Right, as if you could come in here and kill me. There's more protection here than that," Harry retorted disbelievingly. Suddenly a tan arm reached out of the fireplace and wriggled happily in the common room. Harry jumped, shrieked like a girl, and felt desperately around for his wand that was tucked somewhere in his robe.

"I think that's proof enough, don't you think?" the Death Eater sneered. When Harry didn't reply out of shock, the mask started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Muahahahahaha, ahahahahahaha, ahahahaha," the cold voice chortled. This went on for far too long and soon Harry grew angry. He would not be mocked, despite how scared he may be. He was a Gryffindor, right? Harry chucked his slipper hard at the Death Eater's head.

"Muahahahah, ahahahahaha, haha— ow! What the hell was that for?" he grumbled and threw the shoe back into the common room as he rubbed his head, successfully looking like a pouting five-year-old.

"Now I'll ask you again," Harry's tone was cool. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. The fact of the matter is, Potter, you're going to die at the hands of the greatest wizard of all time."

"Dumbledore?" Harry scrunched up his nose, bewildered. The Death Eater rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Yes, Dumbledore's going to kill you. I swear, how dumb can they get? I mean really..." he muttered and with that the head disappeared from the hearth and the flames returned to their normal orange dance.

Harry scanned the dark room for any signs of movement, but found that he was indeed alone again. This was bad. Really bad. He hoped it was another dream. Yet he knew that he'd be lying to himself if he so readily jumped to such a conclusion. But lying to himself sounded like a grand idea t the moment. No, he had to think about it rationally.

Who would want to kill _him_? Harry yawned and laughed a little. Who else? The exact same person who had been trying to hunt him down for the past eighteen years of his life: Voldemort. When would he give up? Really. Harry scanned the file cabinets of memories in his mind. When Harry finished his fifth year, he was entirely sure that Voldemort would rise again to power and the battle to defeat him would be a treacherous one. What was odd was that as Harry continued his daily doses of _The_ Daily_ Prophet_ during that summer, he noticed that Voldemort was disappearing from the news about as fast as Crystal Pepsi did.

By the time his sixth year had started up, it seemed that Voldemort had disappeared off the face of the earth. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing; it was just rather odd, and Harry knew that he wasn't really gone. Voldemort had escaped death so many times before, how could he have been dead? He had regained human form! He could've gone back into hiding yes, but why, nobody knew. Any day now, Harry knew he would seek power again.

Yet the wizarding community was happy enough with Voldemort's lack of excuse for disappearing. Everyone was just glad that things could be normal again. The Ministry of Magic even lifted the Code Death security warning and no one had heard from the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters since. Until now. That year or so of normalcy had been so beautiful. Figures. He really wouldn't have minded being nominated for the Kill Yourself, You'll Do Everyone A Favor You're So Boring award. It would certainly beat his aggravating title as Wonder Boy.

Harry supposed that he would just have to tell Ron and Hermione in the morning about the dream and the floating Death Eater head so they could plan this year's mystery expedition. He knew it. They were going to kill him with flaming butcher's cleavers for ruining the blissful time of being average. Splendid. Merlin, things were so much easier when Sirius was alive. Who did he have to turn to now? The odd thing was that the next morning Harry didn't remember anything from the previous night.


	8. The Pimp's Plan

**11/2010**

**A/N: So here begins the chapter with previously un-posted material. Finally! All I ask is for one review before the next chapter (it's ready) goes up. I'm not a review whore; it's just nice to know people are out there. And as if you didn't know it already, I don't own anything that you recognize.**

_Chapter 8: The Pimp's Plan_

"FINDDDRAAAAAAAA!"

Elvorfindra groaned and wanted to cry. _Who_ had a death wish this morning? Nobody screeched like that and got away with it.

"FIIIIINNNNDRRAAAAAA!"

That is, except Védith.

"Whaaaaatt?" Elvorfindra imitated her friend's insane shrieks.

"Get up!" Védith poked at her from the side of the bed with her wand, urging her to abandon the safe and wonderful world of sleep.

"Piss off."

"Come on, get up. You wouldn't want to keep Scotty waiting, would you?" she cooed and attempted to bat her eyes, but ended up looking like she had retarded butterflies on her face.

"That's ugly. What time is it?" Elvorfindra yawned and tried to sit up.

"Seven. Come on, let's get some breakfast," Védith scampered away from her bed and grabbed some clothes.

"Why are you so happy...?" There was only one reason why she would be scampering around like she was. Védith was still in her pimping mood. Damn it. "Did you steal and freebase the crack from my stash last night?" Elvorfindra shouted maybe a little too loudly because Lisa and Mandy were staring at her with alarmed faces. She was about to assure them that nothing of the sort was stored in her bag, but stopped herself. Oh why not? They already thought she was odd. She was from D.C.; why not pretend to be a crackhead too?

* * *

It was seven in the morning and a few rays of sunlight filtered onto his bed like beautiful golden, glittering nymphs. This beautiful fucking sunlight was also fucking filtering straight into his fucking eyes. Scott muttered incomprehensibly and angrily as he ambled out of bed. He glanced around and noticed his roommates had already disappeared. It was so nice to be feared. He practically had a room to himself. He smiled acerbically and pulled on some trousers and a shirt. No fucking way was he going to fucking deal with a fucking shower this fucking morning. He thought of Elvorfindra and the prospect of possibly having classes with her. But deodorant and a quick brush through the hair might not be such a bad idea.

A few minutes later, Scott descended the boys' dormitory stairs. He found that the common room was full of life. Nobody seemed to notice him and for once Scott was glad for it. Several students were finishing up some homework and others were talking animatedly about some piece of gossip or another. Finally, his gaze rested on Malfoy and he wanted to laugh. Was he really giving...?

"The first lesson you need to learn about being a Slytherin is smirking and laughing," Malfoy said as he smiled graciously at a crowd of first years. There were maybe about ten or so of them sitting on the common room floor with attentive eyes focused on the blond and trying to retain everything he said. Scott gnawed on the inside of his cheek to keep from letting out an unnatural guffaw.

"Now," Malfoy continued, "A Slytherin never outright _laughs._ If I ever hear a 'hahahahahahaha' laugh from any of your mouths, I will cut out your tongue with a plastic fork, throw you at the Sorting Hat's feet, and demand that you be resorted," Draco threatened.

"Then how _do_ we laugh?" a young girl with two light brown braids asked.

"Good question. Instead of the open mouthed 'hahahahhaha', a Slytherin Hm's."

"Hm?" the girl raised a brow at him.

"Ohh, my dear! You're really making so much progress with your eyebrow! But no, a Hm is the epitome of what is considered to be 'tongue and cheek'."

"Tongue and cheek?" a lanky curly haired boy asked, looking bewildered.

"Tongue and cheek, tongue and cheek. How do you explain tongue and cheek? We Britons are quite famous for it. The Hm is like...is like... Éville! Say something of amusement," Draco commanded as he pulled him over.

"Malfoy, you touch me again and I'll disembowel you with a hot fire poker." Scott rolled his eyes and tried to pry Draco off of his arm with no success.

"Good! Notice how that is not 'hahahahaha' funny, but it is Hm hm hm hm hm funny. Try it with me. Hm hm hm hm hm hm. Good, good. Hm hm hm hm hm. Daniel, not so much 'Mm', it's 'Hm'. Put more 'H' in there. There you go!" Draco clapped his hands together enthusiastically. Scott rolled his eyes and made his way out of the common room, Draco's lessons slowly fading away from his ears.

"Now, I asked you all yesterday to practice your smirks. Who wants to show me theirs? Christopher, brilliant work! Try it while raising your brow. Oh it's beautiful, I'm so proud..." Draco let out a strangled cry.

"Loser," Scott muttered to himself as he entered the Great Hall for some breakfast. On his way to the Slytherin table, somebody ran into him with a thud. He looked down and saw her. His eyes went wide for a moment, but he soon gave her a small smile.

"So we meet again. We've got to stop doing this or we're going to earn ourselves a lovely set of bruises." He laughed a little.

"Or maybe a pair of concussions. Sorry, I'm just a klutz." Elvorfindra blushed.

"That's alright, it's early in the morning and no one can really function."

"Yeah," Elvorfindra agreed and glared at Védith who was quietly chanting her favorite pimp song: "Get a room, get a room and go have a bang, it's funner than laughing at an orangutan, get a room, get a room, boom, boom, boom!"

"Védith!" she hissed. "I guess we should be going. We'll see you around. Védith if you don't shut up I'm going to find a very imaginative way to castrate you, you stupid dumb whore!"

"Huh? Yeah! Nice seeing you, Scott!" Védith burst out laughing as Elvorfindra pushed her towards the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh my _God_! I hate you when you're in your pimp mood! Why can't you be normal and have PMS?" Findra whined.

"Is that what I get for trying to speed things along? It's not my fault the world sees me as a cherub with a bow and arrow," Védith said and sat down in the nearest empty space at the table.

"Oh yeah, you're really doing everyone a lot of good. Somebody, get this woman a Nobel Peace Prize!" Findra called out to no one in particular and helped herself to some eggs and toast.

"You can't expect the Pimp to work that quickly! I've only been here a couple of days. People don't know that I'm in business. Oh but they will. Yeah, yeah, you see him?" She pointed to the Gryffindor table with her butter knife.

"What about him?" Findra's eyes focused on Ron Weasley.

"I bet you ten bucks he's head over heels for Hermeeyoin or whatevs her name is." Védith dabbed her knife into the butter dish.

"Why would you think that? They're constantly at each other's throats. She's all smart, clever, and pretty and he's... he's a ginger! You know how no hot ginger guys exist. That's such a cliché to fall for the one you're constantly having a row with," Findra said with a roll of her eyes.

"Having a row?" Védith raised a brow at her.

"Sorry, it's not my fault the limeys are starting to rub off on me," Findra said in a defensive tone. "Still, their relationship would never work. They'd constantly be breaking up and making up," she insisted.

"So? This is the Pimp talking! The Pimp knows what she's talking about," she replied as she waved around her knife enthusiastically, not noticing the silver utensil fly out of her hands and knock a first year in the head.

"Do you have Dolemite printed on your forehead? I don't think so. I have faith that the kid wouldn't be so unoriginal to fall in love with his best friend and the brain of the wizarding world," Findra retorted.

"You're oblivious. It's in his eyyyyeeees."

"The pimp with no aim is right," the first year snapped as he wiped butter off his face and tossed Védith's knife back onto her plate. "Apparently there's been growing chemistry between them since their second year."

"For real?" Védith and Elvorfindra shrieked at the same time.

"Yeah, are you blind? The whole school's been wondering when they're going to just shag in the middle of the Great Hall. _So_ much pent-up sexual frustration." Mandy nodded, joining the conversation.

"Oh well shit me a brick, I was wrong." Elvorfindra blinked in shock.

"It's okay, the first time is always hard," Védith whispered.

"Shut up and let's get to class. What do you have? Arithmancy or whatever?" Findra nudged Védith out of her seat.

"Yeah, you have Divination with Professor Trippy Trelawney, right?"

"No, it's the guy who was named after an Italian city...Firenze or whoever. It can't be that bad." Elvorfindra walked ahead of her with a few books in hand. "Are you coming? We'll be late," she said, but turned around and noticed that Védith wasn't following her.

"Hold on, I'm almost done— okay, let's go. Hurry up." Védith flashed her a brilliant smile and stuffed her wand back in her robes that were again tied around her neck like a cape. The two girls walked out of the hall and thankfully, Elvorfindra didn't notice Védith's ad that was flashing in bright neon colors in the air at the entrance to the Great Hall:

_**Védith Black-Ness of Ravenclaw— **_

_**Pimp, At Your Service**_

_**Hogwarts Library**_

_**Sliding scale is the way I drive**_

_**Reasonable prices to pay**_

_**Tell me who makes you thrive,**_

_**And I'll get you a lay**_

To the teachers' dismay, before they could dispose of the floating writing, many students (although mostly male) sprang for quills and parchment to write down this ah— creative advertisement. Ginny Weasley was one of them.

* * *

"Ghettooo," Védith yawned loudly.

They were in the library because Professor Vector had come down with a bad case of the flu, and due to her absence she had owled them each a syllabus as well as a written assignment on reversed diagonal polynomial floo network graphs to complete in the library during the period. However, she had clearly overestimated the knowledge of some of her students.

"Are you doing this?" she turned to Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff.

"Yes, Vector said that she wanted it by tomorrow," he said with a shrug.

"Are you doing this?" Védith asked Susan Bones who was on the other side of her, but didn't let her answer. "I'm not doing this. I don't know nothin' about no arithmancy."

"That's um...a shame?" Susan didn't quite know what to say. When Madam Pince came over and reprimanded everyone for talking, the room fell into an eerie silence. Védith, who couldn't really stand staying in one place at one time, proceeded to crack her neck, her fingers, her knuckles, her ankles, her knees, even her hip. But everyone seemed to be immune to oddities by now, which was atrocious! She'd only been there a mere 72 hours! Defeated, she fell into silence and attempted to understand the assignment and arithmancy itself.

"Ginny Weasley isn't completely unfortunate looking," whispered Ernie Macmillan suddenly to his fellow Hufflepuff, Elizabeth Dougherty. They saw her walk across the room, only to watch disappear again behind a bookshelf, with only a glimpse of her bright red hair showing.

"What the hellll does Ginny Weasley have to do with friggin' arithmancy?" Védith spat, bitter that she was not the topic of conversation for once. "Hold the phone, does she understand this diagonal graph shiz for a niz?" Her eyes suddenly glittered with hope.

"Shh! Do you want Madam Pince to come over here again?" Ernie hissed.

"Well soo-_rry!_" Védith rolled her eyes and put her hands up in defense. Deciding that she was in fact surrounded by rejects, Védith ignored everything around her and focused on her work, all the while humming "P.I.M.P."

"She's just quiet and doesn't know how to do her hair. Also, if any guy ever approached her, Ron must suddenly notice he has a sister and go all brotherly," Ernie went on.

"I heard that she's really, really smart. I wonder if she is still in love with Harry Potter…" Elizabeth trailed off.

"No," came a flat voice from behind them.

Védith suddenly came back to Earth and burst out laughing at the predicament her classmates were in. Ernie and Elizabeth both turned around to see cold blue eyes staring back at them.

"Oh snap, oh snap! Y'all are busted like a nut!" Védith slapped the table, guffawing.

"Oh Hello, Ginny. Er, how are you?" Elizabeth asked, trying desperately to cover up the awkward situation.

"I'd be better if people didn't talk so much shit about me. Or at least if people had the decency to do it behind my back and not when I'm behind theirs," Ginny replied evenly, with no cruelty but plenty of sarcasm.

Ginny turned and walked back toward another section of the library that might contain information on fire-repelling charms. Her charms class was in the library now, as Professor Flitwick was kind enough to give them class time to start on their homework. Ginny sighed as she walked away from the Hufflepuffs. It wasn't that she was trying to be mean and embarrass the two of them. She just wanted people to stop talking about her like she was part of some sort of weird species. Quite frankly she wasn't the depressed little girl the majority of people thought she was. She was actually quite content to just to read, be with her small group of friends, write, or any other leisure activity. She didn't care _that_ much about the way people talked of her. It was just rude, that's all. Ginny continued scanning titles of books that might prove useful.

"I got your owl," an amused voice crept into her ears. Ginny turned to find Védith Black-Ness leaning against a bookshelf and grinning at her. "You kicked ass back there. You're also one helluva liar," she said with a laugh. Ginny searched for words, but found none. She was caught off guard.

Védith didn't wait for her to reply. "So you want the Pimp to help you out?"

* * *

"Yes, I ah...do need the Pimp's help," Ginny looked down at her feet as a lively red blush spread across her cheeks, accenting her hair.

"Well, spill. Can't very well pimp you off if I don't know who I'm selling you to." Védith rolled her eyes. Why did the young ones always insist on beating around the bush like wussy little virgins? Really now, and what _good_ were virgins? You needed to be aggressive!

"Oh, you know...he's pretty well known. Sexiest guy in school. Great body and all the girls want him," Ginny hinted while she shifted her weight from foot to foot, hoping Védith would guess soon enough.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, hon," Védith yawned and took a seat on the ground.

"He plays Quidditch. He's a seeker! And a damn good one at that. His two best friends are always at his side..." Ginny grew desperate and waved her hands around frantically. She didn't want everyone to hear. Everyone had probably already guessed by now.

"Who now?" Védith raised a brow at her and began to examine her finely manicured nails. Shoot, who would replace her tips while she was here?

"He's known all over school. He's one of the most popular seventh years..." Ginny whimpered, fearful she would actually have to admit that Ernie Macmillan and Elizabeth Dougherty had been right. After all this time, she still hadn't gotten over him. Védith sat for a moment and pondered.

"A jigga who now? Sistah girl, I don't got the time for all this. I have other clients, you know..." She yawned again as her mind scanned a list of the names Lisa and Mandy had given her the other night.

"His name starts with a—" Suddenly Védith's eyes lit up in triumph as an idea formed I her brain.

"Oh shoot, girl, don't say another word. Just leave it to me," she said with a brilliant smile on her face and an empathetic pat to Ginny's shoulder.

"Thank Merlin, so could you...you know...set us up?" Ginny chewed on her lip nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. I have my Defense Against the Dark Arts class with him," Védith dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand. "Thank the Pimp later; I gots work to do now. People to do, things to see..." and with that she flew out of the library.

This left Ginny to contemplate her thoughts as a broad grin broke out across her face. She did a little dance and squealed with excitement. A few heads looked up from their work, but Ginny had assumed a cool composition as she grabbed her bag and left the once again quiet atmosphere.

Védith burst through the castle's doors and treaded across the wet and muddy grass and towards her Care of Magical Creatures class. There were already people forming around a small wooden hut outside the Forbidden Forest. From behind her she heard a rushing "clump-pah-clump" noise and somebody calling "Véd! Véd! Stop meeee!"

Just then Elvorfindra came flying past and continued sliding down the grassy hill towards their class. Védith's eyes went wide and chased after her friend, laughing all the while. Elvorfindra finally stopped, but not until she ran into something huge and hairy. She looked up and groaned in confusion.

"Fancy runnin' in ter yeh down here!" Hagrid grinned behind his massive beard.

"Huh?" Elvorfindra rubbed her head. Meanwhile, Védith finally caught up to the rest of the class, and took in Hagrid's form.

"_You!_" She jutted her finger out towards him.

"What about me?" He smiled and he fed lettuce to something in a wooden crate.

"What're you doing here!" Védith growled, hoping against hope he wasn't—

"Teachin' you, o' course. This is Care of Magical Creatures," he replied and nodded.

"A jigga no! Aw hell no, hell _no!_" Findra stamped her foot on the ground, causing a few specks of mud to fly up into her face.

"Well, no use cryin' 'bout it now. Today, we're gonna start with somethin' special: crackers!" he beamed.

"Finally! I'm starvin', gimme some of that," Védith's mouthed watered. She yanked one of the crates open, plunged her hand in it, and screamed. A two-foot long, slimy, purple creature had attached its massive teeth to Védith's arm. It seemed to be a bigger and more vicious distant relative of the flobberworm.

Hagrid's eyes went wide and he tried to help Védith, but she just kept screaming. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, the cracker's skin started to swell up and loud CRACKS! could be heard from several yards away. She rolled her eyes skywards and fainted from shock. Immediately, Hagrid was able to remove the cracker and put it back in its box. He looked up and noticed that his class had collectively moved away from his hut by about ten feet.

"It's alrigh', it's alrigh'. Them teeth don't actually do nothing, they're like sticky sponges and just latch on ter yeh," he explained to his quivering class. "She'll be righ'," he assured Elvorfindra who was kneeling over Védith and trying to slap her awake.

"Here, give 'er some o' this," Hagrid reached into his moleskin coat and passed her his hip flask.

"Now, as I was sayin', crackers..." he continued with his lesson. Slowly but surely, the class began to calm down, and the crackers proved to be rather interesting. That is... once you got past their er, interesting appearance.

Védith was supposedly knocked out for the rest of the period, but Elvorfindra knew perfectly well she was feigning feeling ill and only wanted to sleep on the grass and get drunk on whatever was in that flask. She couldn't blame her, though; she would have done the same.

"Now, everybody pair off and get one from the crates. Like flobberworms, they enjoy lettuce, but you might want to see how they react to other foods. What I wan' yeh ter do is ter figure out what makes 'em pop, or er...crack. Think up a couple of theories, an' try 'em out," he instructed.

Elvorfindra glanced at Védith and saw that she was snoring happily in Hagrid's garden with her hands curled around his hip flask as if it were a teddy bear. It was most likely quite empty by now. She sighed and looked around at the rest of the class. Everyone seemed to have already paired off. She was going to kill Védith for her lethargy. Figuring she would find out what makes a cracker tick on her own, she approached the crates and peered down at one of the slimy creatures. She suddenly felt a hand on her back and whirled around, only to come nose to nose with Scott Éville.

"Don't breathe, don't breathe, your breath smells like some ass. Why..._whyyyy_ did that garlic bread have to look so enticing at breakfast?" she silently berated herself.

"Hi!" stepping back a couple of feet, she chirped in an unnaturally high voice, an uncanny imitation of a howler monkey on meth. What happened to the husky siren air she was going for? "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in this class..." He furrowed his brow.

"Oh." _Dumbass!_

"Listen, would you like to pair off?" he offered. Elvorfindra's eyes went wide a moment and stepped back another foot.

"Uhm...okay?"

Several yards away, Védith poked open an eye and grinned. "Oh yes, I'm the Pimp Master. Check it out, I'm C-a-s-a-n-o-v-a and the rest is f-l-y. That's right, uh huh, oh yes! I don't mean to brag; I don't mean to boast, but I'm like hot butter on a breakfast toast. Everybody go—" she immediately broke off and began to snore loudly when she noticed Hagrid walking towards her.

He kicked at her Timberlands in an attempt to jostle her awake, but as far as he was concerned she was dead to the world. He attempted to pull his hip flask from her hand, but her grip immediately became a vice. He sighed and walked away to see how the productive members of his class were progressing.

* * *

"So, why do you reckon they crack like that?" Scott asked as Elvorfindra tentatively poked their cracker with a stick.

"Defense mechanism?" Elvorfindra narrowed her eyes and stared at its slippery purple skin.

"It doesn't seem to be too offended by that prodding..."

"That's true. Mating call?"

"You can tell which one's a male and which one's a female?" he laughed.

"Psych jigga no! I don't know! Maybe they just do it at random."

"I highly doubt that." Scott raised a brow at her. What was with everyone at this school? It seemed like they all spent 90% of their time raising their brows at each other.

"Well, since _I_ don't seem to know, you can figure out this shiz for a niz on your own! Go on, Éville! What do you _concur?_" she was growing slightly frustrated with all his dismissals.

But he only smiled at her outburst, which just made her even more irritated, and continued with his hypothesis about crackers.

"Okay, so the only time we've seen it crack is when it latched onto your friend's arm. And it didn't even start to pop until a little while after it had attached itself. Did you notice if anything came out of the cracker's skin when it popped?" he asked as he flipped through his notes.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure." Elvorfindra could kill herself for feeling so useless.

"Only one way to find out." He grinned and rolled up one of his sleeves as a few strands of hair fell in his face.

Findra shook her head, determined not to go googly-eyed and start salivating. Then before she knew what he was doing, the cracker fastened itself onto his arm.

"Ass nugget! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her eyes went wide in alarm.

"Hurry, pass me a couple of vials," Scott instructed her as he peered around at the cracker's spongy teeth, as if nothing more than a butterfly had landed on his arm.

When she returned, the cracker looked about ready to burst as he collected some of the cracker's oozing yellow spit into the bottle. When the cracking began, Findra swooped the vial around aimlessly, trying to see if the cracker emitted anything. She looked up to see Scott unsuccessfully fighting a grin and stifling a laugh. He was trying to fight the cracker off, but it just seemed to be inching up him arm.

"Get it off, get if off," he laughed.

"It tickles, does it?" she said and weakly attempted to suppress a smile.

Grabbing a couple of sticks from the ground, Findra jabbed them in its mouth and pried the critter of his arm. Scott sat on the table they were working on and examined the cracker while the remainder of his chuckles died down.

"Moron!" she scolded him as she pulled her cape, er, robes from her neck and toweled off the yellow spit and violet slime from his arm.

"Thanks," he murmured. Chancing a glance at him, she saw that his eyes seemed to be glued to her face.

"What'd you do that for, anyway?" Elvorfindra asked as she folded her cloak and put it on the table.

"Scientific purposes, of course," Scott sighed and made a few notes on his parchment. Elvorfindra shook her head and looked down at the cracker in its box.

"Pardon me," he reached around her waist and picked up the two vials. Upon feeling his breath on her neck, Findra jumped and looked at him.

"Odd kind of spit they have..." he commented vaguely, but he was staring at Elvorfindra again.

Determined not to let her own spit fall or collapse because of him, she put her gaze on the second vial and studied it. Her jaw fell open. She grabbed the glass bottle from his hand and snatched his arm.

"Oh hot damn! I knew it!" Elvorfindra made a bizarre sort of cackle and clapped her hands.

"What..."

"The cracking is the crackers' form of secretion," she said as she put her hands in the air so as to raise the roof. "It digested your arm hair!" she exclaimed with absolute glee in her eyes.

"Sounds beautiful," he chuckled.

"There was no nutritional value to it, so it cracked it out! It'll eat lettuce, but it uses that for energy and whatever it doesn't use cracks and then seeps into its skin. Look, some of your arm hair is still in its slime! Oh I am the baddest shit!" Sure enough, a few fine hairs could be seen in the cracker's slime.

"_You're_ the baddest shit?" Scott raised a brow at her.

"Okay, okay, I suppose you're a pretty bad shit too," she conceded.

Scott laughed. "Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you."

She blushed and looked down at her notes. He moved so that they stood shoulder to shoulder and could feel each other's warmth as they made corrections to their lab report. And that's when he realized he had never laughed so hard.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it. One review, please! Constructive criticism always appreciated.**


	9. Loony Loopy Lupin

**11/2010**

**A/N: I received one wonderful anonymous review (that I appreciated so much!), so in addition to the reposts, here is a new chapter. Also, thanks Radish King for your review of the first chapter! Again, one review please, just so I know you exist. Also, it may be helpful to go back and re-read the chapter "Hunkasaurus" at some point in life because I think that where I did most of the 2009/2010 updating and explaining exactly why they're at Hogwarts. But it doesn't really matter. I promise I'm done with editing reposting old chapters!  
**

_Chapter 9: Loony Loopy Lupin_

Védith darted around the hallways like a frightened goldfish as she attempted to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts on time. She had sacrificed her lunch so she could do some more advertising and her stomach felt like it might curl up and die from hunger, but she could hardly contain her excitement. She had a client! This was going to be so much fun. After this success story, there would be loads of people lining up begging for her advice. And if she was lucky, they'd be on their knees, too.

It was only one; she still had a full day ahead of her. Shit! She was going to be late! Védith rounded a corner and WOOF! all her things went flying and she ended up sprawled on her back, gracing the dirty stone floor with her presence. What was with this castle that made people run into one another? Védith looked up and found that the person she had run into wasn't in much better shape.

"Hey asshole, why don't you watch where you're going?" Elvorfindra spat and picked herself up off the floor. She looked down and started laughing. "Oh, it's just you. Sorry," she said as she helped Védith up.

"Oh it's just me. _Just_ me. Damn right it's me! I should kick your ass right now, but we's gonna be late," Védith grumbled and picked up her bag.

"I saved you some food," she said and handed her a bulging napkin as a peace offering.

"Fanks." Védith scowled as she stuffed a roll in her mouth.

"Crikey, what crawled up your ass and did the hamster dance?" Findra furrowed her brow.

"Your clumsy ass. I was actually in a fine mood." She jutted her chin out high as she walked into the classroom, arm in arm with Findra.

"And why is that?" Elvorfindra smiled and sat down at a table.

"I got my second client today," Védith said with a grin.

"Really? Who?" her eyes scanned the room for potential suspects.

"Ginny Weasley," Védith whispered in her ear.

"I see, I see. And who's the lucky guy?" Elvorfindra took out a few scrolls off parchment and quills from her bag.

"Well, in Ginny's words, he's 'pretty well known. Sexiest guy in school. Great body and all the girls want him. He plays Quidditch. He's a seeker! And a damn good one at that. His two best friends are always at his side. He's known all over school. He's one of the most popular seventh years,'" Védith repeated the words from memory. She stole a glance at the door, and saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron stroll in with eager looks on their faces.

"Harry Potter?" Elvorfindra guessed, disbelieving.

"Punkass P? Lord, no! I almost wish it was that easy! No...someone much more...sinister?" she tapered off as the Treacherous Trio approached.

"Hey, didn't realize you two had this class with us," Ron said, stopping suddenly in front of their desks with Hermione and Harry at his side.

"Yeah, take a seat." Findra motioned to the empty desks next to her. "What class did you guys just get out of?" she asked while Harry and Ron jumped into the two desks closest to her.

"Muggle Studies. It was fascinating. Why didn't you two decide to sign up for it?" Hermione asked. A dreamy look overtook her as she plopped down next to Védith.

"We know enough about 'em," Védith shrugged, "What are you guys studying anyway?"

"Oh, well, Professor Rugwum decided to start us with iPads and the Dave Matthews Band—"

"Oh you can't be serious," a drawling voice came from behind them. "I have to sit behind you lot for an hour an a half?" Malfoy spat as he entered the scene and he noticed the lack in choice of seats as the class filed inside the room.

"There's always the floor," Findra suggested.

"Please, and get filthy dust all over these robes?" Draco snapped in utter astonishment.

"Well, you're the one bitchin' and whinin'..." Elvorfindra sighed.

"Such a girl," Ron muttered.

"Why is he even here? I would have thought that he would've dropped Defense as soon as humanly possible," Harry grumbled, rather irritated by the blond's presence.

"Oh, well when I heard Lupin was teaching again, I really couldn't give up another chance to have him sacked!" Malfoy explained sweetly. He then fixed his gaze on Védith and said, " And I'll _have you know_ that these robes cost—"

"You know what, Malfoy? They left," Védith told him with bored stare.

"Who?" He raised a disapproving brow at her, abandoning his lecture about the origin of his designer robes.

"The people who cared about your finely tailored black dress, Malfoy. Because let's face it, that's basically what it looks like on you—a dress," she informed him tartly. Several laughs erupted in the classroom and a twinge of red dashed across Malfoy's cheeks before he glowered and finally took a seat behind them. The bell rang and the class sat in silence as it waited for the teacher to arrive.

"So who're you setting Ginny up with?" Findra whispered. Védith remained silent and just when Findra thought she wasn't going to answer, she leaned back in her chair and contentedly sat her elbows on Malfoy's desk, which rested directly behind her.

"And what can I do for this piece of white trash today?" Draco sighed.

"Listen, my friend wants to give you a blow job. What do you say?" Védith replied.

"I beg your pardon!" he sputtered. "I would never let that _thing_ touch _me_ with her mouth that probably infected with all sorts of awful diseases," he said, aghast, as he jabbed a disgusted finger at Elvorfindra.

"Well fuck you too, douche bag!" she said on a snarl. Védith, however, put a restraining hand on her friend's shoulder to keep her from doing anything rash.

"No, not her, you fucktard. Someone _else_." He stared at her blankly. "Why don't I let you think it over for a little while?" Védith suggested before turning back around and winking at him.

"Are you fucking serious?" Elvorfindra laughed while a few late students scurried inside the room, thankful the professor had yet to grace them with his presence.

"As ever," Védith replied, pulling out a tube of lip-gloss from her cleavage and applying a thin sheen of it to her lips.

"Well who woulda thunk it. Wait, then who's your first client?"

"I'll leave that for you to guess." She smacked her lips and an evil smile formed on her face.

Elvorfindra's eyes narrowed and just when the words "You crafty little whore" were about to fly out of her mouth, a chestnut-haired man walked into the room. He sported deep maroon robes that were of a slightly poor quality, and he looked a little tired. The professor looked to be in his mid- to late-forties and he had a smile on his face as he assessed his class.

"Good afternoon. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Professor Lupin and I'll be your D.A.D.A.," his eyes rested on Elvorfindra for a moment, "teacher for the year."

"I know your last few teachers haven't exactly been marvelous, but I hope you will profit from what I have to teach you. Before the year is out, I guarantee that you will be confident wizards and witches in defending yourselves against the vast powers of black magic. Now, before we begin, I think I'll take attendance."

Professor Lupin spun around and shuffled through the papers on his massive mahogany desk. He absentmindedly took a quill from his desk and glanced over the leaflet in his hand.

"Abott, Hannah," Lupin read off the sheet and searched around the room. A blonde with a high-strung ponytail raised her hand, looking as though she was thoroughly sick of being the first name called in each and everyone one of her classes.

"Almora, Jonothan...Almora? Alright...absent. Banner, Will...Black-Ness, Védith..." Lupin's head shot up and his eyes wandered around the room.

"Present like it's your birthday," she said and her hand lazily poked up in the air.

"Black, that isn't a very common name, is it?" Lupin asked. A few seats away, Harry went pallid as a blank expression overtook his face. Their professor's amused eyes suddenly turned empathetic and lingered for a little while on the infamous trio, but his attention was abruptly brought back to Védith.

"Son, I don't know what the fraggle rock you're talking about. There are plenty of Blacks in the world!"

"Are there really now?" Lupin's lips curved up into a smile.

"Damn right, I'm sure there are many Blacks here in the UK. Shoot, there are tons of Blacks in D.C. too. Mind you my name is Black-Ness...Can't forget about my mama," Védith scoffed. The class let out a collective groan, but neither she nor Elvorfindra seemed to notice.

"I see...I guess this will prove to be an interesting year, as suspected. Anyway, Bulstrode, Millicent. There you are. Corner, Michael. Granger, Hermione. Nice to see you again..." and the list went on an on. Lupin couldn't help but chortle, but covered it up with a cough when he came across Malfoy's name and smiled at Harry Potter's. Ernie Macmillan and Elizabeth Dougherty were noticeably absent to Védith's delight, but when Lupin came to Findra's name, he stuttered a little.

"Starsley, Elvorfindra," his eyes bore into hers as her ticked off on the list, "...and finally, Weasley, Ronald. Good to see you again, Ron."

"Now, you'll certainly be learning new things this year, but in addition, we will also be doing quite a bit of review. As you know, you have your N.E.W.T.S. coming up in June. But today I think we'll start off with a bit of history. We're going to learn from the masters. Please take out a quill and some parchment. Based on your common knowledge, I want you to name three of the most notorious dark wizards or witches that happen to wander into your minds," Lupin instructed as he paced the length of the room. The class suddenly went silent and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills against paper.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that I want you to name three of the most notorious dark wizards or witches that happen to wander into your minds...that is...excluding Vol—" Lupin stopped short, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his merry band of Death Eaters."

Most of the class started to cross off the first name they had written down.

"A wicka-what?" Védith asked.

Professor Lupin stopped to glance at her and suppressed a smile. "What I mean, is that for the purpose of this lesson I would rather draw away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," he said and continued his pacing.

"A jigga who?" Védith asked again. As usual, it was unclear whether she was being difficult for the sake or being difficult or if she really wasn't that bright.

"Védith, Védith, what Loopy means is don't put down Big Man V on your paper," Elvorfindra whispered rather loudly.

"Precisely." Lupin smiled at them from where he stood near his desk.

"Oh, but you know that this hyphenated name bullshit is really confusing and really fucking cumbersome to understand, right? It's not just me?"

"No, it is really confusing. British people are just fuckin' weird sometimes," Findra assured her.

"Loopy?" Draco snickered from behind them.

"That's not his name?" Elvorfindra's eyes went wide and her cheeks burned.

"Er, he goes by Lupin, last time I checked," Ron laughed.

"Oh, Professor, that's my bad..." She cringed with guilt.

"It's alright—"

"No I think I actually rather like it. Loopy. Loony Loopy Lupin," Draco sang and used his desk as a drum.

"Pardon me, but when you're done caroling, I do believe we were doing something that I thought would only require a few minutes' time. And please, I only tolerate witty insults in my classroom," Lupin said lightly. He smiled and sat down at his desk.

Védith and Elvorfindra coughed a brief, "Oooh, shot down!" but eventually the room lapsed into silence once more. After five minutes, Lupin stood up and collected everyone's bits and pieces of parchment.

"Let's see...what do we have here? My, we do have quite a bit of review to do...Does Binns teach you nothing? Neville, I do believe Hagar the Horrible is a Muggle comic strip. Ah, Seamus, Hannibal Lecter was a character in a movie. Harry, you're half-right, but it's not Edgar the Evil, but Ewan the Evil. Ron, the Tornados do not count as a gang of dark wizards—"

"Of course they bloody well do! They don't have any real skill. Have you seen their chasers? They're cheaters! Cheaters, I say! CHEATERS!" Ron said heatedly as he stood up, knocking his chair over in the process.

Hermione did a face palm and tried to ignore his unnecessary outburst. The American girls were clearly not a good influence on him.

"Yes, Ron, I know, I know, but I'm afraid we'll have to save Quidditch offensive strategies for another time. Moving right along, Védith, Glenn Beck is not a dark wizard, although sometimes I do wonder. Elvorfindra, nicely done. Macabrelinda from the sixteenth century hag invasions is an excellent choice. Gregory, Vincent, you cannot name yourselves as two of the most notorious dark wizards in history. Padma, Ivan the Terrible was a Russian Tsar. Draco, good answer. Katrina the Kruel was indeed unforgiving. Michael, Wendelin the Weird was just weird, not a dark wizard. Hermione, very good, I wouldn't have thought of Andora the Abhorrent. Millicent, the last time I checked, my mother was not a dark wizard...but to be fair, she was cantankerous. I must say that my last class's answers weren't nearly as inventive as these," Lupin said, sighing as he glanced through the remaining papers.

"Well, we're just going to have to fix this, aren't we?" He smiled more to himself than to the class. "For homework, I want you to pick one dark wizard and explain in a paragraph— anymore and I'll stop reading—" he eyed Hermione, "what these dark wizards did and how. Then tell me how they were defeated. Remember, pick someone other than Vo— You-Know-Who. Due to me next lesson... Yes, Draco?"

"That's it? We're 7th years and that's all you're giving us?" he spat haughtily. "And how is that supposed to prepare us for the N.E.W.T.S?"

"Trust me, it'll get more difficult...but I do believe our time has run out. See you next class!" he called as the bell rang.

"Listen, Findra, I gots my pimp duties. I don't know how many people scheduled appointments today. So I'll see you at dinner?" Védith nudged Elvorfindra as they made their way out of Lupin's classroom amongst the crowd of other students.

She saw Malfoy take one startled look at her and push several people out of the way in order to escape. From seemingly nowhere, she pulled out her magenta fedora and set it jauntily upon her head, the feather tickling her ear.

"Yeah, that's chill. I'll see you there around seven or so?" Findra affirmed.

"Aight!" Védith called and as soon as Findra was out of sight, her eyes scanned the hallway for Malfoy. To her dismay, she was just able to make out his retreating form bolting down a different corridor.

"Damn," she muttered to herself. Well, he wouldn't escape the Pimp that easily. She'd find him later. He could be screaming like a little girl when she did, but she was determined to set him up with Ginny Weasley. Poor girl seemed absolutely taken with the slime ball. In any case, there were other customers she had to— ten long nails dug into Védith's arm and pulled her into a dark, empty classroom.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Elvorfindra was walking back up to the Ravenclaw common room, she realized that the attention of the story wasn't on her. At ALL. She promptly sat down next to one of Hogwarts' many random statues and began to whine and bitch about how much of a whore Védith was, her pimp title notwithstanding. After about half an hour of this, she decided that she should at least try to do something mildly entertaining as the readers wait for the story to go back to Védith.

.

.

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.

.

.

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.

Alas, she came up with nothing.

* * *

"Okay, there are other ways of getting my attention that don't involve drawing blood! Ow, goddamn!" Védith snarled. Despite the lack of light, she attempted to inspect her wound with a sour expression on her face.

"Sorry," a quiet voice replied.

"It's not a problem. Nice set of nails to dig into a man's back. I assume you need to talk to the Pimp and not Védith?" She turned on the lights in the empty classroom and looked up into a young girl's dark eyes. Védith vaguely recognized her as a sixth year.

"I-I guess you could put it that way. My name's Nicola—"

"Zambini. I know—"

"Actually no, it's not. Why the hell does everyone do that?" she cried in exasperation.

"What?" Védith's expression went blank.

"Add the M! It's Zaaaabini. ZaBbini. Not that hard. It's like the most meaning my life has is being a typo," Nicola glowered and kicked some dust on the floor.

"Oh whatever! Do you know how many times bullets and flying knives nearly killed me because of my last name?" she spat as she hopped onto a seat on an empty desk.

"Oh, well I never really—"

"Enough about me, what can the Pimp do for you? Tell me what's on your mind," she said as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could just feel a sinus infection coming on. Where was her Vitamin C nose spray when she needed it?

"Well...you see—"

"Zabini, I know. Colin Creevey."

"Then why ask?" Nicola rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her expensive burgundy robes.

"He stopped me in the hallway this morning. I told him that I don't do love potions. I take it you don't return his affections?" her tone was indifferent as she blotted the few drops of blood from her arm with her robes. Well that was one advantage to wearing black robes— the blood concealment factor.

"No! He's annoying as hell. I sit next to him in charms. He always says crap like, 'My Nicola, you certainly are the charmer, looking quite charming on this charmingly wonderful day in Charms!'" Nicola pretended to gag.

"Oh, that's kind of cute..." she laughed in a voice that was more suited to talking about kittens and rainbows, not the creeper that was Colin Creevey.

"How about not," Nicola said brusquely. She pulled up a chair in front of Védith and plopped down in it. Getting her point across might take some time.

"Okay, so he's a bit annoying, I must admit. But you don't think you would want to be with someone who obviously likes you that much? It has to be kind of flattering. It's only like the third day of school. How can you hate him so much already?" Védith asked and let her feet dangle, childlike, from the desk.

"Carryover from last year. I thought his weird infatuation would go away over the summer, but that is obviously not happening." Her impatience was clear.

"Well fine, can't you just tell him to fuck off?" Védith started to review different possibilities in her head for how to approach this case. Break-ups were certainly easier than set-ups sometimes.

"As if that would work. He'd probably ask me to come with him." Nicola visibly shuddered.

"Haaa! Clever, clever! I'll have to use that one," she muttered and pulled a pencil from behind her ear, jotting the line down on a piece of parchment.

"Whose side are you on?" Nicola looked like she was sorely tempted to hit something.

"Yours! Yours, of course. But you have to think of Creevey's feelings. I mean, come on. Imagine if your brother liked a girl, and you saw him acting like that? So he might be a little goofy, but the best of intentions are still there, right? You can't just crush a guy like that. What would you tell him?"

"If my brother acted like that, I'd kick him in the head and tell him to stop being such a fucking pain in that girl's ass!" Nicola shouted.

Védith's eyes widened and she had to refrain from wincing. These rich private school kids were sure used to getting it their way. "Okay, okay. I get the point. But are you sure? Not even one little date?" She pinched her fingers together.

"He's creepy!"

"Fine, so he's not quite with the 'in' crowd. And he's not exactly funny, but he sounds sweet. He told me he really likes you."

"Did he tell you he asked me to pose for photos? Naked? With his brother? And a large teal feather?" Nicola retorted.

Védith's jaw dropped in horror. "Oh what the hell hell hell is wrong with that child! Goddamn! The crazy bastard didn't tell me that bit. How can I help?" she said and jumped off the desk she was sitting on.

"You're the Pimp! Just get him to stop bugging me, please," Nicola shook Védith's shoulders in desperation.

"Aight, aight, I get the point. Shit, what time is it?" she asked, feeling around for a pocket watch she didn't have.

"Around five," she answered, glancing up at the clock on the classroom's wall.

"Okay, I've got a few appointments in the library, but that shouldn't take too long. Let me bounce on by Big Daddy D's office and I'll arrange a few things. Meet me in the library around 6:30 and we'll take things from there. Is that chill?"

"Tis quite chill," she replied as a smile of relief swept across Nicola's face. She pulled her into a less-than-comfortable hug.

"Girl, you and slang...Mmm, they do not go together. You might hurt yourself. Library, 6:30. Don't forget," she replied, pushing Nicola's hands off her and heading towards the door.

Nicola sighed in relief. "Believe me, I don't think I could."

* * *

"When I wake up, yeah I know I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you," Elvorfindra started to hum softly to herself. Since other plot lines were far more important, she had nothing better to do. She still had an hour and a half before she was back in the main course of things anyway. If even then. Of course, with all of those bitter thoughts running through her mind, that was around the time when the Proclaimers got stuck in her head.

"When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you. If I get drunk! Yes I know I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you."

Her feet and hands were subconsciously tapping to the beat, as her voice got steadily louder. "And if I something, yeah I don't know the words...I'm gonna be the man who's something to-ooh you... Chorus!" she shouted and busted out with her air guitar.

"But I would walk 500 miles an' I would walk 500 more! Just to be the man who walked a 1000 miles to fall down at your door! And hit it with the verse! When I'm workin', yes I know I'm gonna be... I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you. And when the money comes in for the work I'll do, I'll pass almost every penny on to you— BLING BLING! When I come home, oh I know I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be the man who fast forward we don't care about all your romantic sacrifices fast forward fast forward to the CHORUS! RE-MIX! BREAK IT DOWN!"

She danced in circles in the middle of the hallway. Her hands flailed in the air and she bobbed her head in time with the music that only she could hear. "But I would— I would walk— for how long? 500 miles! And how many more? 500 more! Just to be? The man who walked a 1000 miles! How many miles? A 1000 miles! A wicka wicka whaaaat? Just to be the man who walked a 1000 miles to fall down at your door! Da da da! Da da da! Da da da! Da da da! Da da da dum da da dum da da dum dah— AHHH!" Elvorfindra fell backwards and onto the hard stone floor. She hadn't realized someone was watching her and singing along.

* * *

Elvorfindra's scream of terror devolved into awkward laughter. "Ahhh! Haaa, what're you doing here?"

She scooted back nervously on the floor. He took a step forward and she continued to scramble backward. Noticing the humiliation that burned her cheeks, he smiled and watched her mouth hang open like a smashed window.

"Well don't stop singing! It's a good song." Scott Éville kneeled down before her and offered a hand to help her up.

"Uhm...I don't normally sing and I generally just like to mumble a lot of the lyrics. The uh, chorus is generally the best part and I don't generally sing. Especially around people. Singing's generally just not the sort of thing I generally do because I'm generally not all that great at it. I was just waiting and I didn't really have anything better to do. In general. So I— uhm. Um. Generally. Yeah," Elvorfindra stood up with his help and tried to explain herself in a slightly coherent manner.

That really didn't work out too well for her. Despite the fact that she was embarrassed to the core, him being close to her didn't help her nerves either.

"You're havering," he laughed and held onto her shoulders.

"Huh?" Clearly she was going for elegant.

"To haver. It is a verb and it means to talk foolishly. Gibberish," he recited, resembling the good ol' OED. Scott took a step back and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Come again?" she asked dazedly. There was a fine, fine creature talking to her and hormones were making it difficult to process things.

"If I haver, yeah I know I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you," he sang and bounced his head erratically back and forth.

"That was _you_ singing? I just thought the music in my head had an excellent bass!" Her eyes went wide with excitement.

"No, that was me," Scott replied.

She nodded in response while frantically searching her mind for conversation topics. The silence quickly became uncomfortable and awkward. They both looked like those bobble-head dogs in the back windshields of cars. Just when the possibility of turning around and running away looked like a good idea to Elvorfindra—

"Would you like to get something to eat?" Scott blurted out. He smiled at her slightly dumbfounded face, and she wondered if he had charmed his hair to fall in his face every time he did that. She would ask him later. And if he did, she would laugh at him and call him a poser. But for now—

"Dinner? I'm starved and I can't be bothered waiting for Védith to finish her pimp duties."

"Pimp duties? Do I want to know?" he laughed as they made their way down the corridor.

"Other than what you've most likely already heard? Um, no, probably not."

"I thought so. By the way, you play a brilliant air guitar."

"I know."

His arched eyebrow made it impossible for her to keep a straight face.

* * *

When Nicola went into the library an hour and a half later to meet Védith, it was hard to believe that she had entered the library at all. Although everyone in the room was perfectly quiet (like Madame Pince liked it), they were all in a hideously long line that snaked around the tables and bookshelves. The queue eventually led to a back room that Nicola had never seen before, which had a sign taped to it that read:

_**Védith Black-Ness— Pimp Extraordinaire **_

"You have an office?" Nicola scoffed as she silently entered the room, to the protest of several people who had supposedly "ditched class to make an appointment and have been waiting for eons."

"Oh, well, Pince and I have a little arrangement," Védith answered, not looking up from the mess of papers on the table in front of her.

"What sort of arrangement?" she asked as she took a seat next to Millicent Bulstrode, who was anxiously awaiting the Pimp's advice on her love life.

"As long as everyone keeps their mouths shut, I shelve a few books every now and then, and I hook her up with some of Elvorfindra's jambalaya, it's all good," Védith said and made a few notes on a form in front of her.

"A Briton who likes something other than tea? I knew I didn't want to know. So are you ready yet?" Nicola crossed one leg over the other and ran her fingers through her rich, dark hair.

"In a minute, in a minute! Girl, you are not my only client!" Védith snapped, glaring at the impetuous girl. "Millicent, honey, I'll see what I can do about hooking you up with Justin Finch-Fletchley. In the mean time, ease up on the concealer— it doesn't match your skin tone—like _at all_— and try to smile at him during your Herbology class together. I don't think he'll get the message if you only growl and hiss. Holla back at me tomorrow afternoon, aight?" she asked, turning to the hulking Slytherin. Millicent nodded mutely and walked out of the room. "Remember, I only get paid when you get laid!"

"Aight, let's bounce!" Védith put a pen behind her ear and ushered Nicola out, locking the door on her way.

A collective groan was heard throughout the library, which earned everyone a loathsome scowl from Madame Pince.

"Sshh! Unless you are here to study, I want you to leave! You know The Pimp's office hours are only from 3:30 to 6:30 on weekdays and 2:00 to 6:00 on weekends. If you wish to secure your appointment with the Pimp, you can sign your name and leave a message with the magical calendar outside her door. Now scoot! Out of my library!" she screeched and returned to sorting through her prized books, which lay on a cart in front of her.

"I can't believe you got Madame Pince to be your bitch!" Nicola shook her head as they exited the library and ambled down the corridor.

"What can I say? I'm talented," she said, shrugging.

"If you can get Colin Creevey off my back, your talents will never be doubted. Did you talk to Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, Big Daddy D's cool with everything. We'll be aight."

"So what is it exactly you're going to do?"

"That, I don't know yet."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Nicola grabbed Védith's arm, forcing her to stop.

"Hon, when you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn that you work best under pressure. Besides, I like to do improv. Now, can we continue walking?" She pulled the younger girl along.

"This is what I get for hiring someone who only gets paid on contingency," she sighed dramatically.

"First of all, you did not hire me. I am my own pimp. Second of all, where's your brother?"

"Probably eating dinner..."

"And Creevey?"

"Probably taking pictures of his dinner..."

"Perfect!" She could hear the screws in her mind turning.

* * *

**One review please!**


	10. Condom or ConDOM?

**A/N: Thank you, yourgreatgrandmother, for the review! Much appreciated. As per usual, I don't own a thing. Also, I just need at least one review, please, before I post the next chapter. Thanks!**

_Chapter 10: Condom or Con-DOM?_

While Védith cackled conspiratorially and got all sorts of ideas in her head, it didn't take them long to get to the Great Hall. They slipped in unnoticed amongst the throng of hungry people and stealthily made their way towards the Gryffindor table. Once Colin and his brother, Denis, came into view, Nicola's once powerful and confident posture seemed to completely deflate. Védith frowned at the girl's sudden change in mood, but continued striding purposefully toward the little perv. The blond-haired boy seemed to notice the swift movement through his peripheral vision and glanced up. A feral grin broke out on his face and he turned in his seat to face Nicola and Védith.

"Védith, darling! I see you've come through with that love potion I requested. Fantastic! Now, how much do I owe you for—"

"I told you that I don't do love potions, Colin. Those are illegal, in case you forgot. She's come here willingly," Védith explained, her tone neutral.

Colin's leering gaze turned to Nicola and he began to rub his hands together in hungrily. Védith gave Nicola a brief, but meaningful look, which put a stop to the girl's rather unZabini-like bulging eyes and squawking.

"So she's agreed to do the pictures?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with appraisal.

"Colin, Colin, what's this about pictures? I thought you said this was about love..."

"Well, it is! You see—" Colin backpedaled.

"Besides, what I meant was that she's come here willingly— _to_ _turn you down_. I'm here to make sure you understand the word 'no'," Védith spoke slowly, so as to ensure he understood any large words.

"What do you mean, no?" His voice became shrill and whiny, as he stood up with a pleading expression on his face.

"You see, I was afraid we'd run into this," she said to Nicola, who only managed to smile half-heartedly. "Colin, what I mean is, no. As in there will be no dates. No relationship. No proposals. And especially no pictures. This _means_ that you have to stop harassing her. Alright? Pimp Code Rule Number Two: All Ho's Must Be Ready and Willing. Key word? _Willing_." Védith made sure to raise her voice up a notch, in order to attract more attention than what they were already getting. Out of the corner of her eye, she vaguely saw Blaise get up from his seat at the Slytherin table. Perfect.

"What's Pimp Code Rule Number One?" Denis piped up.

"That's a good question, shawty. Pimp Code Rule Number One is: Always Use a Condom If You Don't Wanna Be Welcomed Into Fatherdom," Védith said, smiling sweetly at the fifth year, hoping that he wasn't as twisted as his older brother.

"Is that even a word, fatherdom?" Hermione seemed more perturbed at the idea of incorrect grammar and spelling, rather than the fact that one of her housemates was a pervvy weirdo.

"No, what the real problem is that she pronounced condom wrong!" Ron looked flabbergasted.

Védith gave him a blank look. "Dude, it's condom."

"It is not! It's con-DOM!" Harry defended.

"No, it's mos' def condom. Very low stress level on both syllables."

"I _swear_ it's con-DOM!" Ron shot back.

"You may swear it's 'con-DOM', but it's actually condom," Védith insisted.

"CON-DOM!"

"Condom."

"CON-DOM!"

"Condom."

...

_Needless to say, this went on for a little while...that is until..._

_...  
_

"But I saw her staring at me!" Colin broke in and pointed at Nicola. "_Seductively_!" he hissed. Védith stopped and turned to the mousy boy, blinking a few times. Shaking her head of any linguistic arguments she had for the condom pronunciation debate, she laughed, but then sighed tiredly.

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe she was staring because you're a sixth year, but you're also freakishly small? Not just short, but tiny? Like she couldn't understand _why_ you look like such a leprechaun? Shit! That's what was running through my head for twenty minutes when I first saw you!" she exclaimed.

"I am not a leprechaun! Nor am I small! My bone structure is just petite! Now what happened to making people fall in love like you promised?" he said and stomped his foot, causing the camera around his neck to shake a little.

"Maybe it's because..." she scanned her mind rapidly for ideas, "she's already fallen in love. With someone _else_!"

"With _who_?" he gasped.

"With ME!" the two words just popped out of her mouth. Very, very loudly.

"What?" Blaise's jaw dropped when he arrived at the scene. Védith grabbed Nicola and kissed her soundly on the lips. Nicola's arms flailed.

"Oh, nice job, Védith! Look what you've gotten yourself into now! What a perfect way to end a week, that's right, just kiss some random girl. Agh, just imagine it's someone else. Like that one pizza delivery guy you hooked up with or something. Man, what is this going to do to your pimp career? Whatever, Elvorfindra will figure something out," the thoughts zoomed through her head as she hoped her plan would work.

The entire Great Hall had been sucker-punched. The silence was broken by the furious clicking of Colin's camera. She broke away from Nicola away abruptly.

"WONDERFUL!" he cried, elated. "You thought a little thing like you two being together would get in the way? This makes things ten times better. You two can pose for me! The pictures will sell like the new Weird Sisters album! Come on, girls, one more shot. Maybe with a little tongue this time? It shall be magnifi—" Colin was promptly cut off and knocked out cold by Blaise's right hook. Blaise then pulled the camera off of his neck and tore the film out of it, leaving it crumpled and useless on the Hall's marble floor.

"Why did you feel like you couldn't tell me about this?" Blaise said, turning to his sister. His voice was the platonic ideal of the concerned older brother.

"I wasn't sure you would believe me," she replied in a small voice.

"Wouldn't believe you? Of course I would have. And the lesbian thing, I would have—"

"Oh that. That's definitely not true. Like _at all_," Védith wrapped an arm around Blaise's shoulder. "Terribly sorry about that, Nic. It was the only thing that came to mind. Problem solved though, right? Just let me know if he gives you anymore trouble."

"What're you on about?" he looked absolutely confused.

"Absolutely brilliant. You're _brilliant_. There's no other word to describe your talent. Brilliant!" Nicola took the typical British exclamation to a new level.

"I would have to agree," Dumbledore said in an amused voice behind them. "Thank you, Miss Black-Ness. Although I wasn't expecting such a colorful show, it had its desired effect. I must say, that your knowledge of human psychology and predicting people's reactions is astounding. I shall see that Colin receives punishment and that his behavior is more closely observed."

Védith beamed. "Bangin'!"

And with that she contentedly made her way to the various tables to help herself to some dinner. She stopped at the Hufflepuff table for some gooey, delicious mashed potatoes and was just about to find out where Findra was sitting when a patch of retreating platinum blonde hair caught her eye. Damnit. Védith briefly considered letting Malfoy escape once again, but her Pimpin' Sense (which interestingly worked _just_ like Spiderman's Spidey Sense) wouldn't let her.

Sighing and hoping that Elvorfindra had kept some extra jambalaya in their dorm, she flew out of the Great Hall. The sound of hurried footsteps welcomed her ears and she slunk towards her terrified prey. His shiny, shiny (we're talking shampoo commercial model) blond hair reflected in the hallway's dim lighting, and she silently followed like a lion stalks its prey.

Malfoy's back suddenly stiffened and he turned around as she ducked behind a conveniently placed statue. His posture visibly relaxed and he continued on his way toward the dungeons, losing himself in his thoughts. Sure that he was oblivious to his surroundings, Védith increased her pace until she was a couple of feet behind him.

Then making her move, she latched onto Malfoy's arm just as he was silently walking past a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He jumped a little and scowled when he saw the owner of the touch that had interrupted his thoughts.

"What? Not used to warm-blooded animals?" Védith laughed.

"I thought it might be you. Unfortunately, I also _thought_ I had lost you," he grumbled indignantly.

"Oh well, poor you. But now that I've got you, we can talk. You probably witnessed my successful case with Nicola Zabini in the Great Hall. Now that you know that I'm a good pimp, who takes care of her clients and ho's, can I set you up with someone?" she chattered on excitedly. Malfoy sighed in exasperation.

"Blah, blah-blah, blah, blah? Honestly, do you ever shut up? It seems like you never actually _say_ anything. You just kind of talk. Your voice— it grates on the nerves," he said between clenched teeth.

Ignoring him completely, she wrapped her arm around his even more tightly and smiled. "Listen, the Pimp was wondering if you've thought any more about the proposition she mentioned during Defense Against the Dark Arts." Védith's tone was that of a New York businessman.

"I don't talk to people who speak in third person," he said and unsuccessfully tried to pry himself from her grip. Védith simply glared at him and raised a brow, awaiting an answer. Malfoy rolled his eyes and quickened their pace.

"I'm afraid that I don't care to whore myself around to the Hogwarts female population, thanks," his tone was icy.

"Oh please. When was the last time you had a _really_ good blow job?" she dismissed his rejection.

"I beg your pardon!" Draco's eyes went wide and looked down at her.

"That's the second time you've shrieked like that. Shut up and level with me, son. You can't honestly tell me you haven't slept around a bit with the ladies. I've heard from a few of them that you're excellenté when it comes to—"

"I am not going to discuss this any further with a person whose life goal is to be Mr. T's daughter," he said stiffly.

"I'm very proud of you for actually knowing who Mr. T is, you elitist scum. However, it is actually my goal in life to be Uncle Luke's* daughter, but he won't answer any of my letters. Now, this ain't neither the time nor the place to be hatin'. Come on. When was the last time you had a blow job that made your eyes glaze over and all you could see were stars?" she urged.

"Well, Pansy's been a bit lacking lately. She does this thing with her tongue and I'm like WHOA, sister! But not in a good way and it's like _what_ do you think you're doing, you best back up—" he stopped short, aghast. "Merlin's beard, I'm starting to sound like you! Oh damn it all to hell!" he muttered and his cheeks started to turn a faint pink.

"Boy, you can tell me," she said, glad she'd been able to make him crack, even a little. "I'm a pimp. This is what I'm here for. Tell Véddie what's been troubling your sexual appetite, dear," she said, chuckling good-naturedly.

"Fine," Draco replied in a willowy voice and rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, have you ever noticed how all the Slytherin girls look like house elves with Down Syndrome?" he grieved wistfully. Védith whistled between her teeth and nodded. "Which is why...you need someone...a bit more, what's the word? Fiery."

"Oh? And you know of such a person?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Bitch please, this is the Pimp you're talkin' to. There's this girl I know. She is an impish vixen. And I've heard that her blow jobs can top Sara Lee's cheesecakes!" Védith struggled to make Ginny look like an irresistible sex goddess in Draco's eyes. Shit, according to multiple sources, their families weren't exactly on the best of terms.

"I don't know what cheesecake is, but she sounds interesting. Who is she?" A shadow of a smile crossed his face.

"Ah...how about you find out when you meet her?" she evaded providing an answer.

"And what if she's a troll? Or worse, a Gryffindor?" Draco scoffed. Védith laughed and avoided eye contact.

"Just tell me when you're free," she coaxed and patted his arm some more. His eyes scanned a bulletin board when they had made a complete loop around the first floor of the castle and stood just outside the Great Hall. He glanced down at her, as if appraising her. Védith bristled; maybe she shouldn't have cut her skirt so short. How was she to be taken seriously as a pimp if she looked more like a ho? She had thought that the gaudy red fedora would have been enough. Maybe she was imagining things; he was probably vaulting silent insults at her, not checking her out.

"This weekend is the first Hogsmeade trip. We'll do it then," her replied curtly, breaking her thoughts.

"Hogsmeade? Come again?" Védith looked up at him and frowned.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed and pointed at the Hogsmeade flier on the bulletin board. Just then, Professor Lupin, who was sipping at a goblet of pumpkin juice, came strolling towards them.

"Védith, Draco," he said, smiling. They nodded at him in greeting and resumed their conversation.

"Stupid Muggle-born," Draco mumbled, refraining himself from saying "Mudblood." If he wanted to get in on this sweet deal, he'd have to be civil towards this circus freak.

"Ho! Do not rag on one of the thousands of illegitimate babies of the US of A!"

"I beg your pardon?" he scoffed.

"Do not give me that crap; my mom's a witch! So she's a bit of an idiot and got knocked up by some guy at a club! Not her fault he wasn't a wizard," Védith spat.

"Oh that is rich! I can't believe—" Draco's bark of laughter was cut off by the sound of shattered glass. They turned around to see their professor covered in pumpkin juice laughing like an idiot while his goblet remained splintered on the cold, stone ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized, "I ah..." and he started laughing again.

"You see? Even Professor Lupin thinks it's funny," Draco said and let her arm slide off him as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, no...I was merely thinking of a joke I once heard. Something about a dog and a penguin. Terribly amusing," Lupin replied feebly. "_Reparo_," he muttered as he wiped off his face with a handkerchief, the empty glass flying up into his hand. "Don't mind me, carry on!" he slipped into his office, where his unrestrained AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA's could still be heard.

"I say, I don't think I'm going to be able to let that one go! I mean, I don't think I'll be able to go one day without reminding you that—"

"Tae! Kwon! Do, motherfucker!" Draco was suddenly met with Védith's foot mere inches away from his face.

"Say one more damn word and I'll break that pretty nose of yours _and_ you will _not_ be getting a blow job!" she threatened.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop," he said. He pushed her foot away and put on a straight face. "But I can't help but wonder, do I call you a bastard or is there some special female counterpart for the word?"

Her blue eyes sparkled dangerously. "Fuck you, Malfoy. Do you want me to hook you up this weekend or not?"

"Alright, alright. I'm done. I swear." He put his hands up in surrender, although he still couldn't help but smirk.

Védith decided to ignore it. As long as he was agreeing hook up with Ginny, she could tolerate some of his bullshit. "Okay then. So what's the deal?"

Draco pondered a moment. "I guess we'll stay behind at the castle. Where should we meet?"

"How about in a closet?"

"A closet?" he repeated, perplexed. He would definitely have to plan on wearing some of his less-than-fine clothes. Well, it's not like he'd have his pants on long, anyway.

"Yeah, will this one work?" She pulled open a door and coughed slightly at the dust that flew into her face. "It's no hotel-motel suite, but it'll serve your purposes," Védith shrugged.

"What time?" he asked, more eagerly than he would have liked. But he almost didn't want to wait until Hogsmeade.

"Man, you really want to make sure you get a blow job, don't you?" She smirked.

"I can walk away from this too, you know," he said as an innocent expression overtook his face.

"How about at four or so? Is four okay?" she asked, pulling a black leather planner from her bag and double-checking her list of appointments.

"Sounds fine to me." He was grinning, which she found highly unnerving and only slightly attractive. No! Pimp Rule Number Three, §1.5: Thou shalt not even to begin covet thy ho's client.

"Owl me if you need anything," she instructed him, deciding that looking at her planner was better than looking at him directly in the eye.

"Will do."

"Now what is this Hogsmeade trip thing that you were talking about exactly?" Védith asked, waving away her thoughts and any of his smart comments.

"Hogsmeade? It's the only wizarding town in Britain. It's right next to the Hogwarts grounds. Anyone who's a third year and up is allowed to visit on certain days. However, I am surprised how early the first Hogsmeade weekend is this year," he mused, again looking at the flier. "Anyway, on these certain days, essentially the entire castle empties, which is why if this... girl and I stay behind, we'll get all the privacy we'll need," he said and gave her a pointed look. Védith held back a sigh; Ginny would be one lucky girl, indeed.

"Anyway, Hogsmeade trips are also usually regarded as opportunities for young girls and boys to go on a 'date'. A popular Hogsmeade hangout is the Three Broomsticks. It is owned by the very well endowed Madame Rosmerta, who serves excellent butterbeer. Hogsmeade is quite unique because all magical kinds are free to roam the town. This is an experience you do not generally see in places such as Diagon Alley or the King's Cross train station because Hogsmeade is—"

"Bitch, shut up! And you say I jibbah-jabbah a lot!"

"I was merely informing the uninformed—or rather—the uneducated," Draco sighed as he examined his nails for nonexistent imperfections.

"Oh God, shut up. Like right now. You're such a douche bag," Védith ground out before striding away from his goddamn smirk.

* * *

Elvorfindra finally gave up on trying to find Védith. She had enjoyed dinner with Scott at the Ravenclaw table (to the horror of the Ravenclaws) and was positively giddy. They'd flirted and his eyes were so warm and full of laughter when he was with her. And they'd definitely laughed at the show Védith had put on. Scott had been impressed with her flair for drama. Then it had ended all too soon. They each had homework to do and the Ravenclaws had started to whimper or hiss whenever Scott happened to look at one of them. So she'd longingly watched him leave the Hall and then had ended up in the library when Védith was nowhere to be found. That girl got into all kinds of trouble when she had that ridiculous red hat on.

Elvorfindra decided that she liked this library. It was old, and the architecture matched the rest of the castle's beautiful Gothic aesthetic. There were endless rows of books and the tables were shiny with wood polish. The only drawback was that it was cold. For being a magical castle, it was pretty poorly insulated. Like in the dorms, seats by the fireplaces where prime real estate. She hadn't arrived in time to snag one, unfortunately, so she roamed the stacks, hoping to warm herself up by moving around and hopefully finding that divination book she was looking for. Firenze only spoke in riddles and awkwardly structured sentences where subjects and verbs were not where they should be—a bit like Yoda. _Believe you me. Shining are the stars; possibilities they are full of._ Elvorfindra was hoping to find a book that wasn't quite so ass-backwards and confusing.

She was scanning the titles when she heard a soft voice behind her.

"Hey."

Elvorfindra whirled around and beamed.

"Scott! What're you doing here?" she asked. Every part of her suddenly felt warm, and not for the first time, she mentally begged him to drag her close and kiss her.

"I was looking for a book, but spotted you first. You seemed more appealing," he said. His comment had the intended effect: She blushed and smiled again. He stepped closer. She knew she had just seen him, but she was giddy at the prospect of spending more time with him, if only for a few moments. All she could do was drink him in now so that she would have something to sigh about later before she fell asleep. Underneath the typical black robe, he wore dark charcoal-gray pinstriped pants with a deep green V-neck wool sweater. His green striped tie peeked out beneath his sweater, and she had the sudden desire to hang on to that tie as she kissed his neck.

"That's cool. What book?" she asked.

He seemed taken aback by her question for a moment, but just replied, "Couldn't find it. I'll have to check with Madame Pince to see if it's been checked out."

Elvorfindra shook her head and laughed. "It still baffles me how advanced the magic is here, but how lacking the technology is."

"Not enough computers for you?" he asked.

Her face betrayed her surprise and he smiled. "I took my requisite Muggle Studdies electives," he explained.

"Ah, I see. Yeah. It just seems like there is so much the wizarding world could benefit from combining technologies with muggles. Well, I should really try to find that book and get back to my homework," she said. She was edgy just standing around him, and until she learned how to think and ogle at the same time, she could only see him in relatively short bursts.

"Wait," he said, taking her hand in his before she could go anywhere. She looked down at their hands. He felt so warm and her head felt dizzy. She couldn't breathe quite right and could only seem to focus on his lips.

"What?" she asked, dazed.

"I just wanted to…" His sentence didn't go much further than that. His hand brushed her cheek and settled on her neck. Heat suffused her once more. Thoughts ceased; she couldn't think. She just kept staring at his eyes. Brown and full of warmth. His lips looked soft, firm, and utterly kissable. She moved closer to him so they could feel the subtle heat radiating off of one another's bodies. Elvorfindra swallowed and attempted to gather her thoughts, but his face grew closer to hers and she just couldn't make sense of words anymore. Thankfully, instead of talking, Scott kissed her. She wished someone could have given her a high-five right then because…_finally_.

The kiss was soft, smooth, and devastating, to be melodramatic about it. His mouth was warm and while she hadn't wanted to be a complete hussy, her mouth simply fell open, eager to deepen the kiss. She felt his hot breath against her; she shivered. His tongue slowly reached out and touched hers. Elvorfindra felt herself melting; Scott pushed her back against a bookcase and pressed himself tightly against her. She moaned into his mouth and clutched his arms for support. His hands were in her hair and she could barely move from all of the heat coursing through her. The kiss was warm and wet and she didn't want to ever end it. Unfortunately, he abruptly broke the kiss, and they both tried to gasp for air as quietly as possible. His dark hair was in his eyes again and Elvorfindra immediately wanted to kiss him once more. To her dismay, he spoke before she got the chance.

"Wow," he said with a feral grin.

"I know, right?" she said, laughing.

"I like you," he admitted.

This news elated her. "That's more than obvious," she said nonchalantly, but then matched his devious smile.

Scott tucked some of her hair behind her ear, unable to stop smiling. She knew that he was a Slytherin and that she had only known him for a few days, but Elvorfindra felt like she could trust him. He was more than a mystery to her; she conceded that she really didn't know that much about him and had no delusions that it felt like "she had known him forever." But there was something about his kindness and sweetness toward her that made her feel like she could trust him.

"You were saying?" she asked innocently.

"What I was going to say, before those pink lips of yours lured me in, was that I just wanted to know why you speak differently when you're around me?"

The question jolted her and she couldn't help but laugh. "Védith and I are from the _suburbs _of D.C. We were in public school though!" she added, so as to not completely diminish her street cred.

"I'm still not sure I completely understand," he said. He held her hand tighter and pulled her a little closer toward him. Elvorfindra swallowed and attempted to gather her thoughts. But really, she just wanted another one of those devastating kisses.

"Védith and I didn't exactly come here out of our own free will. In fact, we're kind of pissed off about it. We've been trying to raise some hell, hoping that maybe we'll get expelled or that our moms will pull us out of here. They supposedly think they're keeping us safe by being close to Dumbledore, but I think that's bullshit," she explained while absently smoothing out his wrinkle-less robe.

"Keeping you safe? What could you possibly have to worry about? Vol—Big Man V, as you so elegantly put it, fell off the face of the earth. Unless…" She lost him to his own musings.

"Unless what?" she asked. "I mean Latinka's really wasn't _that_ bad…"

His eyes suddenly became hooded, and she frowned.

"What is it?" she said in attempt to draw him out of his thoughts.

"It's nothing," he replied. He gave her a smile, but it seemed sad. "Well, we better both find our books. I believe you were searching here, but I have to go that way," he said and pointed in some vague direction.

She nodded. She was concerned about what was on his mind, but didn't want to push it too much. "Alright. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, definitely." He smiled again, but it still didn't quite reach his eyes.

He started to walk away, but she grabbed his robe. He turned around, pulled her close and kissed her again. Warmth shot through her veins and a small moan escaped her. He broke the kiss by giving her a series of progressively shorter kisses, as if weaning her from the delight he had to offer her.

"Have a good night," he murmured.

"You too."

He walked away. Findra sighed. Finding a book that would combat Firenze's Yoda-like diction seemed even more unappealing.

* * *

Scott strode purposefully toward the reference section of the library, abandoning his quest for finding a book on leaving someone anonymous death threats. He would deal with terrifying Potter later. He gave the shelves a cursory scan before stopping in front of a large section dedicated to the school yearbook archives. He scanned the spines and eventually pulled down a few titles from varying years. He flipped through several portraits of grinning, winking, and waving faces; passed by heated-looking Quidditch matches; skimmed ridiculous superlatives. Most likely to have sex with a dragon? Really? And then—

"Fuck," he whispered.

One wretched group photo confirmed his worst suspicions. The grass was green and he could see the deep blue lake in the background. The people in the picture waved and danced around, cheerfully smiling up at him from the faded page. He snarled back at them and slammed the book shut.

* * *

***For those of you who are young as all get-out, Uncle Luke was a member of 2 Live Crew and is generally hilarious and amazing. Link! www[dot]youtube[dot]com****/watch?v=8yvJFV9K6cA**

**Anyway, one review, please! Constructive, deconstructive, reconstructive, or misconstructive criticism is always appreciated. **


	11. Cold Shoulders

**A/N: Thank you for the review, invisibleink! Unfortunately, it's going to be a couple of chapters before Elvorfidnra and Védith team up get up to wreak havoc again. But it will happen, I promise!  
**

**Anyway, as per usual, all I ask is for at least one review, please! Thanks!**

_Chapter 11: Cold Shoulders_

The next morning on her way to breakfast, Elvorfindra spotted Scott entering the Great Hall. She scampered toward him with a big smile on her face, eager to trade flirty banter. She wondered when she might be able to kiss him again and maybe give him a grope. Unfortunately, neither flirty banter—nor anything else— was to be had that day.

"Hey! How are you?" she said, walking in step beside him. However, he barely spared her a glance.

"Fine."

"I hope that after last night's show Védith doesn't pull anything during breakfast. Might be a _bit _much."

"Something like that." He started to walk faster. She frowned; he was usually a little more responsive than that.

"Do you have any plans for lunch?"

"Yeah, I'll be eating it," he replied noncommittally. She saw him glance at the Gryffindor table. Was there someone he was—she shoved the thought away before it even fully formed it and persisted.

"Ditto! I don't suppose you'd want to eat it together, then?" she offered.

He sighed. "No, not particularly."

She stopped, dumbstruck. "What the fuck?"

He kept walking.

* * *

Harry sat down to breakfast beside Ron and Hermione, who were busy enough that they only had time to say, "Hi." Ron was finishing up some last minute homework—how was he already behind? Hermione was furiously searching through a tome of a catalog of Ministry jobs that automatically updated itself whenever a new position was posted. She'd received the behemoth of a book in the post yesterday and hadn't stopped looking for opportunities she might be able to seize once she was finished with school.

Harry appreciated the normal behavior and scanned the headlines of _The Daily Prophet _as he served himself some fried eggs, kippers, and neatly sliced toast. He drizzled some Hollandaise sauce on the whole lot, but promptly forgot about it when a comprehensive report on recent Quidditch matches caught his interest for several moments. Puddlemere had been doing particularly well in the past few matches. The Chudley Cannons? Not so much. He would do well to keep that bit of information away from Ron. He was glad to see that Krum was still doing well in Bulgaria. The article eventually petered out and Harry set the paper down to start on his breakfast, but jumped as soon as he saw it.

Instead of the Hollandaise sauce being as he remembered, the sauce now spelled out the following words in a neat cursive:

**DIE, POTTER**

In the next moment, the kippers, which still had heads, began to sing mournfully, "Die, Potter, die! Someone's going to catch youuuu. Diiiie, Potter, die!"

Ron and Hermione both looked up from what they were doing and stared at Harry in horror.

"Did either of you do this?" he demanded, although he already knew the answer.

"Of course we didn't, Harry! What in Merlin's name is going on?" Hermione asked in a shrill tone.

People sitting near them started to stare as the kippers continued singing, "Die, Potter, die!" Harry did the first thing he could think of: He stabbed the already dead fish. Thankfully, they stopped singing, but people were still staring up at him. Ron suddenly took on an exaggerated sheepish look.

"Sorry, mate. It was me. Fred and George gave me a book of pranks and I wanted to try some out on you first." He started laughing, trying to look proud of what was supposedly his prank.

"Piss off, Ron. That ain't bloody right. You of all people should know that!" Seamus admonished him.

Ron nodded. "Sorry, Harry. I should've had the kippers say something else. Like 'Have a nice day, we love you!' or some lot."

"It's alright, Ron. I forgive you," Harry said quickly, not wishing for anyone else to overhear what was going on. He dropped his newspaper on top of his food, no longer hungry.

When everyone else had gone back to their breakfasts and their own conversations, Hermione, Harry, and Ron eyed each other worriedly.

"We'll talk about this later," Harry decided. Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement. "I just remembered something odd."

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Later," Harry replied. He glanced up at the faculty table. Dumbledore was standing up, ready to take his leave; their eyes met. But just as soon as he had, Dumbledore quickly looked away and left the Hall.

"I don't like this at all," Harry muttered.

* * *

Elvorfindra wasn't able to concentrate at all in Transfiguration. What the hell was going on with Scott? He had seemed a little weird the previous night, but still very eager to have his hands all over her business. This morning he had seemed like a completely different person, like what a Slytherin should be. She wanted to bring up the matter with Védith, but she was really overdoing herself with her pimping. Maybe Scott had just been busy. They'd been having such a good time. It didn't make sense to just pull a complete 180. Maybe she would try talking to him again later. But that didn't mean she was able to concentrate any better at the moment, thankful that she didn't find the subject of Transfiguration terribly difficult. She did, after all, transfigure Védith's Jesus chain into different styles on a regular basis.

Speaking of whom, Védith was also distracted. She had managed to snag a copy of the previous year's yearbook from the library for a few hours by giving Madame Pince some fried chicken. Thank goodness for the portable deep fryer Elvorfindra kept in her trunk. Védith would never get anything done if it weren't for Elvorfindra's cooking. However, that also meant that she was spending the class period trying to figure out who would be best suited with whom. The grid she had created was way more complicated than anything in Arithmancy, but as far as Elvorfindra could tell, she had no problem navigating it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it, they seemed to be enrolled in Transfiguration for Retards. It was a double period, but over half of it had been spent on review because the goddamned Hufflepuffs couldn't seem to retain anything. McGonagall, valiant as she was, seemed like a tired mother, disappointed whenever a student got yet another question wrong. She seemed sad and so annoyed to have to ceaselessly explain, demonstrate, re-explain, and re-demonstrate wand movements. These were the kids who had supposedly done the best on their Transfiguration O.W.L.s?

Elvorfindra could tell that some of the Ravenclaws in the class were actually smart, but they seemed reluctant to end the charade, enjoying the plight of the Hufflepuffs far too much.

"What about you, Starsley?" McGonagall fixed her gaze on Elvorfindra.

Her eyes widened slightly, but didn't dare betray the fact that she'd only been half-paying attention. "What about me?" she spat. Stupid boy, making her even surlier than usual.

"How is your Vanishing Spell?" McGonagall asked tartly, clearly still of the persuasion that Elvorfindra and Védith would give Hogwarts a hernia.

She lazily pointed her wand at McGonagall, whispered, "_Evanesco,_" and made the professor's stern and stiff black hat disappear right off her head.

"Oh." The professor seemed a little put out, but quickly rebounded with, "How about you transfigure your clothes into something a little more appropriate?"

"With pleh-jah," she retorted in a ridiculous British accent. Elvorfindra pointed her wand at herself and said something ugly and Latin. Suddenly she was wearing black pumps, a short red skirt, and a black shirt that read, "_McGonagall = love__."_

"Thank you, Ms. Starsley. Just like your—" she stopped herself short. "Just like I thought you might. But still not exactly appropriate," she reminded her. McGonagall pointed her wand at her student and muttered her own spell.

Elvorfindra looked down and then gave her professor a smirk. "Fair enough," she shrugged. Her professor had put her in perfect Hogwarts regulation uniform. Skirt at the appropriate length, tie where it should be, and all.

"Come to think of it, that goes for you too," McGonagall said to Védith.

"Huh?" she asked, looking up from her graphs. Suddenly she too was in standard Hogwarts uniform and clearly not happy about it. "Aw, weak! You know we're just going to cut them up again, right?"

"And I shall only be too glad to right them again whenever I see you." McGonagall gave her a triumphant grin.

* * *

"Mmm, girl, I do not like this one bit," Védith said darkly as they exited the classroom. "I don't gots the time to be adjusting my threads all the damn time." She grimaced and tugged at her uniform uncomfortably.

"Oh, chill out. I'll see if there's a Freezing Charm that will fix the problem. Come on, it was only a matter of time before someone stopped being shocked and started doing something about it."

"Findra, we have to rebel against this until we get some answers," Védith insisted.

"And you think we'll get them by being pains in their asses? Maybe we should try a different tactic."

Védith shook her head. "No, I don't think they're going to tell us anything unless we get our moms here. How much could these fools know?"

Elvorfindra thought a moment. "Big Daddy D has to know something. He was the one who accepted us as transfers. Our moms must have given him a pretty good reason," she pointed out.

"I don't think he's going to tell us anything,"

"What makes you say that?" She glanced at her friend questioningly.

"I tried talking to him the other day, before I set up that thing with Creevey and Nicola. I told him what I was going to do beforehand, but I also wanted to see if he would tell me anything about us."

Elvorfindra's eyes lit up, appreciative of Védith's cunning. "And?"

Védith shook her head. "Nothing. He just said that it was something between our mothers and us. Oh, and that he has always appreciated creative spirits."

Findra groaned. "It's even worse than I thought. He thinks what we're doing is _funny_. Obviously we need to take it up a notch."

"Def, def."

"But how? I would have thought that you being in your PMS pimping mood would have been enough. You're running a racket _out of the library_ and starting to see some real profit!"

"Yeah, but it's bringing inter-house unity. Clients have been admitting all kinds of cross-house attractions to me. And did you know a couple of people have also started checking out the other tables at dinner?" Védith hissed indignantly.

Elvorfindra closed her eyes. "What if we stopped going to class and doing homework? Just failed out," she suggested.

Védith squawked. "Bitch, are you insane? It's one thing to get expelled from school for reckless behavior; it's another thing completely to fail out. I gots no problem telling an employer, 'Why yes, sir, I was a little reckless in my youth, but have since understood the consequences and amended my ways.' It's something else entirely to try to convince them that you're not actually retarded even though you failed out of school!" she ranted.

Findra held up her hands defensively. "Okay, fine, so we won't try to fail out. But what do we do?"

They found themselves in front of the library and stood at its curved, ornate wooden doors. Védith studied her for a moment. "_You_ need to do something," she said finally and pointed a finger at Findra.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taken aback.

"I've already got a couple of irons in the fire, not including my pimp racket. You need to cook up something for you to do aside from just wearing a skankified school uniform," Védith informed her.

"Being loud and ignorant isn't enough?" Elvorfindra shot back. She was actually fairly quiet by nature. Sure she was pissed off about what their mothers had done, but that didn't necessarily make it easy to ho it up in front of hundreds of people and act like she belonged on _Jerry Springer_.

"Frankly, ever since you laid eyes on Mr. Éville, I don't think you've quite been obnoxious enough. In fact, your performance has been just a little lackluster," she replied evenly.

Elvorfindra gave her a dark look. First Scott, now Védith was being a tool? Oh, _hell no_. She'd been nothing of supportive of Védith from the minute they had hatched this plan on the train to Hogwarts. She had been making all of the soul food needed to bribe Madam Pince. Findra even kept her clients calm when Védith was busy, _and_ she had been the one to charm that stupid magical pimping calendar of hers.

"Screw you. You and your goddamn hat were the ones trying to get us together anyway," Findra retorted.

Védith sighed impatiently. "Yeah, just to get it over and done with so we could move on to more important things—like figuring out why we're here. Something is not right about this," she snapped.

"Fuck you. I don't need to be an attention whore to get shit done."

"So exactly how are you planning on getting shit done?" Védith put her hands on her hips.

"Fuck off. Go take care of your ho's and the tricks they turn," Elvorfindra spat before storming away.

* * *

Védith seethed for a moment before her cell phone's alarm went off to remind her that she had an appointment. She pulled the device out of her pocket to see that she was meeting with Ginny Weasley in a few minutes. Barging into the library, she ignored any potential client who started to approach her and locked herself in her office. She put her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair.

What the hell was Elvorfindra's problem? It was like she had her head screwed on wrong about this whole issue. When had they gotten off the same page? They'd been so annoyed and suspicious after boarding the Hogwarts Express. They had locked themselves in one of the train's compartments and drawn the curtains shut. The plan they'd come up with hadn't been that complicated. What they were doing really couldn't be that hard to pull off. Védith pouted. And yet it was.

In addition to the antics they'd been stirring up, they had already owled their mothers a couple times to tell them that they were miserable and wanted to leave. But so far they had only received letters back telling them to stop bitching about attending the Oxford of the wizarding world. Dumbledore was of no use. Tight-lipped as a spinster's poon-tang. And now Findra was being insane and straying away from _the plan_. I guess she would just have to pick up the slack and keep being a pain in everyone's ass until Dumbledore dragged their mothers to this infernally drafty castle.

Suddenly the door opened and broke Védith's thoughts. Ginny.

"Miss lady, how you doing?" she greeted, forcing herself to seem bright and excited about the scheme at hand.

Ginny blushed and quickly closed the door behind her. "I'm fine. So what's happening?" she asked, quite eager, Védith noticed.

"All taken care of," she replied serenely.

"Really?" Ginny squealed.

"Really." Védith nodded.

"Thank Merlin! I can't believe he actually wants to be with me," she muttered to herself, relieved. "So what happens now? What do we do?"

Védith took her feet off her desk and plunked them down on the floor. "I hope you haven't made any plans for Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Well I did—"

"And now you don't," Védith said firmly. "How familiar are you with the school's broom closets?" she asked.

Ginny's eyes widened.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was on his way to lunch, very much looking forward to the blowjob he would be getting this weekend. After speaking with Védith the other night, he had broken all sexual ties with Pansy. She'd been disappointed, but clearly not heartbroken because he had seen her prowling after Blaise a little while later. Good sport, she was. Terrible with blowjobs, but a good sport. But _this _blowjob promised to be superb. He was so busy smirking to himself that he didn't notice that someone walking beside him.

"Good afternoon, Malfoy. I trust that you're well?" Lupin asked.

Draco couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or embarrassed that the professor had interrupted some rather salacious thoughts about getting his dick sucked.

"Ah—yes, quite."

"Good, good. How's the assignment coming along?" Lupin asked.

Draco stared at the older man. Why was he talking to him? And why had he come back to Hogwarts? In his third year, he'd cornered Lupin at the end of the year and had warned him that if he didn't resign, then his father would have him sacked. Draco frowned. Unfortunately, it hadn't been much of a threat, however, because Lupin had already tendered his resignation to Dumbledore. He was far from thrilled to be around the werewolf again and had questioned his father about the matter. Yet Lucius had explained nothing, only saying that for once that there was nothing he could do about it, but to keep tabs on the creature—which Draco was all-too-pleased to do. Unlike what most of these idiots believed, the Dark Lord was still around, and Draco was deliciously close to getting a brilliant tattoo of his own.

"Well, it's a _paragraph_, so to tell you the truth, I haven't started it," he replied loftily.

"I suppose that's fair," Lupin acknowledged. "I say, you aren't planning on writing about Stanlit the Duplicitous, are you?"

Draco paused. Who the fuck was Stanlit the Duplicitous? "Ah, as a matter of fact, I am. One of the first names that came to mind, actually," he said pompously. Thankfully they'd arrived at the Great Hall and Draco would be able to ditch the wolf easily enough.

"Oh, excellent. I look forward to reading what you have to say about him," Lupin said with a genial expression on this face. However, Professor Snape walked in front of him and the expression faltered slightly.

"Lupin, Malfoy," he acknowledged them.

"Professor Snape," Draco said as he gave him a deferential bow.

"How are you?" Lupin asked, his body suddenly stiff.

"Just fine, just fine," Snape said loftily. "I just had a question regarding the school's dress code and wondered if you might know the answer."

"Of course." Lupin nodded, but he looked uneasy as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Draco stood there, eager to see what Snape had up his large, black, billowing sleeve.

"Do you know anything about what the policy is on jewelry? I saw at least one of the two American girls wearing a necklace that has a circular charm with a _gaudy _'M' right in the middle. Would you say that this is too ostentatious for students to be wearing?" he asked and cocked an eyebrow at Lupin.

Lupin paled significantly, glancing at Draco quickly and then back at Snape. Draco had absolutely no idea what was going on, but was ecstatic that Snape had made the bloody werewolf that uncomfortable.

"I-I have to say that I'm unsure. I don't believe it would be a problem, but perhaps it would be best to check with Flitwick. He seems to all about those kinds of things," Lupin stammered.

"I see. Well, I suppose I'll have to in order to solve this…mystery," Snape said silkily.

"Best of luck with that. I hope you both enjoy your lunches," he said shortly before disappearing into the lunch crowd.

* * *

Elvorfindra grabbed food from the Ravenclaw table at lunch, wrapped it all in some napkins, and stuffed it in her bag. She was still pissed off and wanted to eat alone outside, regardless of the fact that fall was definitely starting to kick in. She slipped out of the Great Hall and made her way down a hallway. Most everyone was at lunch, so the halls were relatively peaceful. She was looking forward to sitting on the sloping lawn in front of the lake. It would at least be sunny there.

She had almost made it outside when she saw Scott cross her as he walked on in an intersecting hallway. He stared at her for a moment before continuing on his way. Elvorfindra was mad, but Findra still wanted him. Maybe he had just been in a foul mood this morning. She could certainly understand that. Being up early had never been one of her fortes. Maybe there was the chance that he would want to eat with her now that he'd woken up a bit. And so she took what she assured herself was a just a minor detour to the lake and followed him. She certainly didn't try to be quiet about it, but he didn't seem to notice her approaching.

"Hey, Scott," she greeted.

"Hello," he returned, but didn't stop to look at her.

"I grabbed some food from the Great Hall. I'm used to getting food for Védith too, so I probably took too much. I was going to sit by the lake and eat; did you want to come with?" she offered. There. Nice and casual. Not stalkery or needy. Just a casual suggestion.

Scott stopped and looked down at her. "Did we not talk this morning?" he asked bitingly.

"Uh…yeah."

"Alright, so you do remember me rejecting you, then?" His eyes were such a far cry from the warm brown she had seen in the library that she had trouble remembering them.

"Well right, but I thought that maybe you would reconsider," she said slowly.

"No." His voice was flat.

Findra inwardly seethed. Why in hell did he have to be so hot, even as he completely shot her down? She just wanted to kiss that jaw and grope him shamelessly. Why, oh, why hadn't she groped him when she'd had the chance?

"I see," she said, although she clearly didn't. If she had slept with him, then she would understand the sudden about-face. But they'd kissed all of _twice_. Unless she was a bad kisser? No, he wouldn't have kissed her like that twice if she were bad at it.

"So if you don't mind, I have more important things to do."

"Not so fast," she snarled and grabbed his arm. She pointed her want to her throat and muttered, "_Sonorus_." Then she screamed, "RAAAAAAAPE!"

Scott tried to bolt, but she held fast to his arm. "HELP! RAPE!"

A few people rushed down the hallway, but too late; Scott was able to pull his arm free of her. He ran down another hallway, but before disappearing completely from view…did he smirk at her? That arrogant—! A couple of students she had never met before were suddenly at her side and asked her if she was alright and if they should get her head of house.

Elvorfindra shook her head. Hopefully she'd gotten her point across: She could have his balls on a platter, if she wanted to. Asshole.

"No, don't bother," she assured them. "I'm fine, and he has an idea of what could happen if he bothers me again."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon and most of the seventh year Gryffindors were asleep to rest up for that evening's Astronomy class. However, there were three exceptions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had found a quiet corner for a somber discussion. They were huddled in a triangle of red armchairs.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name is going on?" Hermione demanded hoarsely.

Harry sighed. "I didn't remember anything until this morning at breakfast," he began.

"I've been having dreams—although they seem more like memories—but I never remember them in the morning. And my scar always burns. But it was like the wailing kippers triggered something in me today."

Ron closed his eyes. "This is bloody wonderful."

"Tell me about it," Harry mumbled.

"Do you remember the dreams now?" Hermione prompted.

"Vaguely. They're odd, and I don't remember everything," he admitted.

"Do you—do you think they're, _his_ memories?" Ron hesitated.

"I'm not sure, but considering they're bothering my scar, I think they could be. Each time I have the dream, it lasts a little longer. There are two men, and they're driving down a street in a muggle car. They're also listening to this terrible muggle music. I can never really see their faces, but I know they're wizards. They get out of the car with large tote bags, full of something, but I'm not sure what. They're in front of this house. I don't recognize it at all. One has a bottle of firewhiskey and starts drinking from it. Then they both start laughing like madmen and start throwing things. I can't tell what. That's as far as it's gotten so far."

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry. "Well that is just bizarre," Hermione finally said.

"I don't know what to do," Harry admitted. "Should I go to Dumbledore? Should I ask for more Occulmens lessons? Will he even believe me?"

They sat quietly and thought.

"Do you remember any other dreams you've had? Dreams where you've been transmitting information instead of receiving it?" Hermione asked.

"No, I don't think so." Harry shook his head.

"What I don't like is that until now, you never remembered anything in the morning. What d'you suppose that's all about?" Ron frowned.

"Harry, tomorrow I'm going to do research on memory charms. We need to know if something's been done to you. But out of curiosity, do you remember what the music was?" she asked.

He thought a moment. "No. But it was some of that terrible rap—"

The three of them stared at each other. Ron took a breath. "I don't want to invalidate this at all, but do you think this might just be dreaming about weird stuff after these American girls shook everything up. I mean, were you having these dreams during the summer?"

Harry shook his head.

"Alright, well we're not dismissing anything. We're—and by we I mean I—am going to research Memory Charms. If anything comes out of that, then we'll go to Dumbledore. But the last thing we want is to run screaming to him if there's absolutely nothing wrong," Hermione decided.

Hermione was usually the first person to want to go to Dumbledore, but he could understand her hesitation here. Things had been radio silent form Voldemort for over a year. These could just be dreams.

"If the dream progresses any more, tell us," Ron encouraged.

Harry nodded, feeling a bit like a patient at a doctor's office. He leaned back in his armchair and sighed. And things had been so nice and ordinary.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and again, at least one review!**


	12. Sharing a Broom Closet

**Disclaimer: Don't anything but the plot and the OCs.**

_Chapter 12: Sharing a Broom Closet_

By the time Astronomy rolled around at midnight, Elvorfindra and Védith weren't ignoring one another, but would only carry on short bursts of stilted, civil conversation. They walked silently toward the astronomy tower, telescopes and lab manuals in hand. Climbing up onto the tower, Elvorfindra was soon freezing to the bone in the fall wind, so she quickly placed a Warming Charm on herself. Védith scowled.

"Elvorfindra," she said, taking on a formal tone. "I don't suppose you could put a Warming Charm on me, as well? I don't seem to have worn the appropriate clothing." She tried her best not to look at her recently re-sluttified uniform. It certainly didn't help that she was awful at Warming Charms. The wand-work was complicated as all get-out.

Draco Malfoy walked by and gave Védith a perturbed look. The girl could actually sound normal? Bizarre. Scott Éville entered the classroom immediately after him, barely sparing the Americans a glance.

"Why of course, Védith, darling," she said demurely before adding in an undertone, "Only if you skank up my uniform again _immediately_. But _really _slut it up."

She glared daggers at Scott. After Transfiguration, she hadn't bothered to change it back by hand. And she wasn't great at tearing clothes by wand. Completely changing her outfit was one thing, modifying her current outfit was something else.

Védith nodded curtly and began muttering spells. Elvorfindra immediately started waving her wand around expertly, and soon Védith felt a comfortable aura of warmth surrounding her. Elvorfindra looked down and was satisfied to see that the amount of cleavage showing was much greater and that her skirt was even shorter. Her eyes rounded when it was became obvious that she was wearing garters. Elvorfindra quirked a brow at Védith.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Findra made no reply and simply nodded in approval.

Professor Sinistra made her way out onto her chilly outdoor classroom and surveyed her students briefly. She wore a tall emerald-colored pointed hat and matching cloak. Her hair was dark and her lips were a deep red. She glanced at the constellation of tall black lab tables spread out across the tower's cobbled surface, and students immediately began to station themselves in groups of two or three at each one. Elvorfindra purposefully walked in front of the table that Scott and Draco were leaning against.

"Excuse us, boys. Pardon me," she said airily as she and Védith picked a table a few feet away.

Elvorfindra would have sincerely preferred not to work with Védith that evening because goddamn if she wasn't being a pain in the ass, telling her she wasn't pulling her weight. However, if it meant she got to torture that blockhead Scott Éville, then she could deal with it momentarily. She was been somewhat mollified when she noticed his eyes widening as she walked past.

"Welcome to Astronomy," Professor Sinistra said in a thick Italian accent. "The law of the stars, and a class where we shall determine our place in the universe."

The class nodded dumbly. Sure, they'd had a free period to nap, but midnight was a little too fucking late and a little too cold for a class, was it not?

"Tonight," the professor continued, "We are going to examine the other galaxies in our universe. After a brief lecture, you will be given various coordinates to put into your telescopes, and you will observe, analyze, and classify some other galaxies in our midst."

Védith's mouth dropped, and her hand immediately shot up. Elvorfindra braced herself. Of course, she was going to be an attention whore, even at midnight. Findra conveniently decided to ignore the fact that she'd had Védith alter her uniform for the same exact purpose.

"Yes?" Professor Sinistra said when she noticed Védith's waving hand.

"Waitaminit, waitaminit. I thought we'd be doing star charts and observing planetary orbits and shit?"

Professor Sinistra blinked. "Well we will be, just not tonight."

"Nah, nah," Védith persisted. "I thought we'd be writin' horoscopes and all

that shiz. You know, like 'Saturn is in the house of Mars, so you probably won't get fired for skimming, but your trick of a girlfriend will dump you.'"

"No, my dear," the professor corrected quietly. "This is Astronomy, not Astrology. I believe Astrology is a unit Professor Trelawney covers in her Divination class."

"Oh, so what, you mean this is like science or some shit?" Elvorfindra blurted out.

Their professor saw no need to dignify that question with an answer and continued to explain the course, the syllabus, and their assignment for that evening.

"Oh fuck, why are those two words waaaay too similar? At Latinka's, that's all we did in Astronomy—write bullshit horoscopes," Védith hissed.

"We signed up for the wrong fuckin' class," Findra muttered, defeated.

"Aw, are the wee little halfbloods confused about Astronomy and big bad Astrophysics?" Draco Malfoy leaned over near their table to taunt them.

"Malfoy, I will cut you," Elvorfindra said lightly, pulling a switchblade out from her cleavage.

The git backed away, but not without revealing a smug smile. Findra threw him a scowl before flipping through the lab manual and trying not to get worried. So far the rest of their classes had more or less been on par with what they'd had at Latinka's, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions being their strong points. However, it seemed that Astronomy might not translate well at all. Hopefully they would be able to just get through it and pass their exams.

**X X X**

Draco glanced at Védith, deciding not to pursue a line of insults. He did, after all, have a blowjob to attend to this weekend. He opened his lab manual and pretended to pay attention. Thankfully he was able to get a seat next to Éville. Well not quite thankfully. The bloke creeped him out, but now, more than ever, his father was insisting that he befriend him. Draco didn't understand why. Éville had never been present at the few Death Eater meetings he'd been to, and his father had never mentioned Éville's parents in any capacity, so how important could he be? It didn't matter. If it would help him get his tattoo, he would do it.

When it came time to take out their telescopes and start classifying galaxies, Draco made an attempt at small talk.

"Say, Éville, why did you choose Astronomy?" Draco asked nonchalantly.

"Probably the same reason you did," Éville said, giving him a pointed look.

Draco's father hadn't told him much, but rumor had it that the Dark Lord had failed to rally support from the werewolves, so he was turning to the stars to see what they had to offer him. Something about how he might be able to harness the energy from certain celestial objects. All Draco knew was that he had better know a damn thing or two about it when the right time came. Draco wondered if Éville already had a Dark Mark or not. Usually that sort of thing happened upon finishing school or turning 18, whichever came first. But Éville seemed to have all kinds of intel that Draco didn't. Maybe it really would be beneficial to actually befriend him.

"That's fair," Draco admitted. Deciding that potential conversations about the Dark Lord were probably best left for the Slytherin common room, he eyed the two Americans sitting a few feet away. "They're a bit of a handful," he observed.

A dark look crossed Éville's face. "You can say that again."

"Is it really necessary to be that obnoxious? I just heard Black-Ness speak in a completely normal voice," Draco said, clearly still gobsmacked at being a witness to it.

"It would seem that way," Scott muttered irritably.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked with a raised brow.

"Just that even though they're hotter than most of the female population at Hogwarts, doesn't make them any less of a pain in the arse," he replied cryptically.

"Fair e-nough." Draco nodded emphatically.

**X X X**

By the time Astronomy ended, Scott was glad that Malfoy was making it easy to become allies. Once the git stopped trying to be such a pretentious snot-wad, he was actually all right. Scott knew that he was sickeningly eager to get the Dark Mark from dear old Daddy, but he didn't think Malfoy actually knew who Scott's father was just yet. If he had, he probably would have thrown himself at Scott's feet eons ago.

Maybe Malfoy would have some clever ideas for other ways of tormenting Potter. Obviously Scott couldn't tell him about Daddy's orders, but that didn't mean he couldn't garner inspiration from him. Although he would have to lighten up on the threats a bit. He didn't think his dad had quite thought everything through concerning Potter's death, so as per usual, he would have to wait for him to organize himself a bit more. While his stunt at the breakfast table had been brilliant (if he wasn't being too modest about it), Potter was starting to get a little too worried a little too quickly; Scott didn't need him running screaming like a ninny to Dumbledore.

"Whoops! Clumsy ass me!" he heard a voice exclaim airily.

He had just reentered the somewhat warmer castle only to come across a fallen Elvorfindra. After that kiss, she was making it surprisingly and frustratingly difficult to ignore her. She had dropped her book and her telescope case. She was—Scott swallowed hard—on all fours, making a big show about picking up her things. She looked behind her, barely glanced at Scott, and went back to reaching for her telescope. It really wasn't that far away, but she somehow felt the need to arch her back and really stretch out to grab it. Was she—was she wearing garters? Scott stifled a groan and quickly walked away. Damn her to hell. Didn't she understand that he didn't have a choice in ignoring her? Well it's not like he could very well _tell_ her that.

**X X X**

Despite the late-night Astronomy class, Draco woke up early the next morning, realizing, "Shit! I forgot about bloody Defense!" He grabbed a banana and some tea from the Great Hall and went straight to the bloody library.

He'd forgotten to write that stupid paragraph that Lupin wanted for class. If he hadn't spoken with the stupid man, he would have just written about Grindelwald or something, but no, he'd said he would write about bloody Stanlit the Duplicitous—whoever the hell that was. And he wasn't about to see Lupin's smirk of triumph if he didn't write about him. He could just see the poncy wolf saying, "Have trouble finding books on him in the library, did you?"

He perused the stacks, but frankly, had no idea where to begin. He could assume Lupin had mentioned someone obscure and old just to be obtuse, so he headed to 13th century history section, just to start. He knew he was a dark wizard, obviously, but there were thousands of books in this library. So he pulled out his wand. Draco Malfoy wasn't second in his class for nothing.

"_Accio libris_ Stanlit the Duplicitous," he muttered. To his delight, several bright green arrows appeared and pointed at all of the relevant books. _So _much handier than scanning the card catalogue for hours. Unfortunately, he'd come up with it after a Muggle Studies class during his sixth year. He'd taken the class in hopes that he would get to spend the whole time making fun of muggles and muggleborns, but he hadn't been so lucky. He'd actually learned a few things, one of them being the advantage of computsers.

Or was it just computers? In any case, he'd learned about the search function. You just typed what you were looking for into a box, and all of the exact matches would come up! Draco, greatly annoyed that he hadn't seen anything like that in the wizarding world, took it upon himself to modify the summoning charm. A simple "libris" had made his schoolwork pathetically easy since then. Like Granger could top _that_.

Draco eventually stopped bragging to himself about himself and picked the relevant titles off the shelf. He hadn't been too far off; Stanlit was from the mid-14th century. He dropped the pile of books onto the nearest table and pulled out a quill and some parchment from his bag. He opened several of the books and pointed his wand at them, repeating his modified summoning charm. More small green arrows popped up. Quickly scanning the texts, he was able to discern that Stanlit was a Russian dark wizard and while the muggles were combating the Mongol invasion, he had placed his allegiance with the even darker wizard called Borislav the Beastly…

"_Stanlit the Duplicitous was renown for placing his loyalty only where it benefited him. However, Borislav made the mistake of trusting Stanlit completely. He became Borislav's second in command. As Borislav built a following to conquer the Russian wizarding world, Stanlit helped him terrorize peasants and those unwilling to join Borslav's cause. They used inventive torture curses, which included unwilling self-impalement, and they staged a coup to overthrow the reigning wizarding government, called Pravitel'stvo Magyia._

"_However, Stanlit the Duplicitous had intentions of his own. A league of warriors led by one Aleksandr the Valiant wanted to put an end to Borislav and his followers. Stanlit, seeing the opportunity for wealth, traded secrets with Aleksandr that would bring Borislav down. In exchange, Stanlit received many riches and the promise of protection after Borislav was destroyed. After many a bloody battle, Aleksandr did eventually defeat Borislav. However, Aleksandr was as ruthless as Borislav. He had Stanlit killed for being second in command to Borislav, never revealing that Stanlit had helped him._

"_The truth was only discovered after Aleksandr's death when his serf elf ran into the streets and proclaimed the truth. This, of course sent the subsequent wizarding government into an upset anew..."_

Draco stopped reading and frowned. He quickly wrote out Lupin's requisite paragraph and slammed the books shut. He dumped them on a trolley for Madam Pince to deal with and strode out of the library.

He'd finished the stupid assignment, but was unnerved by what he had read. Stanlit wasn't the real dark wizard here. What happened to him was…tragic. Granted, he sounded like a self-serving git, but that was an admirable quality! Stanlit had understood that Borislav was a barbarous idiot who wouldn't get far, but he was hardly rewarded for his bravery. He'd put a lot on the line to help that Aleksandr the Valiant. More like Aleksandr the Arsehole, Draco thought sourly.

He didn't quite know why the reading had bothered him so much, but it did. Always so obnoxious to know the atrocities of history with the advantage of hindsight.

**X X X**

To the delight of most of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Védith and Elvorfindra were still barely on speaking terms, and were therefore rather quiet. Védith was hunched over last year's yearbook again and working on her matchmaking chart. Elvorfindra was working on some sort of illegible schematic that she kept hiding with her arm whenever Védith happened to spare a glance her way.

When Professor Lupin entered the classroom, he was surprised to see his loudest students so quiet, but said nothing.

"Class, I would like to begin by discussing your homework. I trust that no one had any trouble with it?"

The class laughed in response, but he just raised his brows at his students. "This is coming from the people who tried to tell me that a muggle Russian tsar was a dark wizard."

The class was silent.

"Right. So why don't we go over these?"

The class groaned, but pulled out various pieces of parchment. Professor Lupin sat on his desk, legs dangling, and waited for everyone to take out their assignments.

"Now, speaking of Russians, Draco, would you like to tell us about your dark wizard?"

Draco looked up from the parchment that he had been reading and re-reading and gave Lupin a long-suffering glare.

"Fine," he grated out. "I wrote about Stanlit the Duplicitous. He was a 14th century dark wizard, most notable for being Borislav the Beastly's second in command."

"Good. Now what did he do and how?"

"Well, Borislav wanted control over all Russian wizards and Stanlit wanted to be on the right side of the fight when things got heated. So together they staged a coup to overthrow the Russian wizarding government. They also tortured people into submission, most notably using a curse that forces one to impale oneself upon the nearest sharp object. Stanlit and Borislav had many large wooden stakes prepared," Draco explained matter-of-factly.

A few students gasped and several threw him dirty looks. Figured that Malfoy would choose someone so awful.

"And how was he defeated?" Lupin prompted.

Draco seemed at war with himself for a moment before blurting out, "Well therein lies the tragedy."

"How so? This bloke sounds like a right git!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron," Lupin said calmly. "Do you know what's more dangerous than complete ignorance?"

Ron looked like he was about to venture an answer, but Lupin said, "A small amount of information. Because a just a small amount of information leads to assumptions, which just makes you look like an ass."

Ron's and Harry's mouths dropped open in shock. Hermione, however, simply nodded and said, "Well he's _right_." No wonder she tried to know everything.

"Draco, please do continue," Lupin encouraged.

"Stanlit is known as Stanlit the Duplicitous because he betrayed Borislav. In exchange for protection, he sold secrets to Aleksandr the Valiant so that he could defeat him. The tragedy is that once Borislav was killed, Aleksandr killed Stanlit too. No one thought anything of it because most people knew him as Borislav's second in command. No one even knew about it until Aleksandr died himself and his house elf told everyone everything."

Elvorfindra and Védith were paying attention by now and looked horrified.

"That's fucked up," Findra muttered to no one in particular.

"So what did you learn from this?" Lupin asked Draco.

"That if you're going to risk your bloody neck like that, you better have a damn good reason, and you better know exactly who it is that you're helping, that's for sure," Draco snapped.

"And do you know what the real kicker is?" Lupin asked as he jumped off his desk and started to pace. "Draco, do you know?"

He shook his head. He'd only had so much time to devote to this blasted assignment.

"Aleksandr the Valiant was Stanlit the Duplicitous' father."

Draco scowled deeper, somehow infuriated with historical figures from six centuries in the past.

"Oh what the fuck! That's some _Star Wars _and _Oedipus Rex _bullshit right there," Védith exclaimed.

"Actually it isn't," Elvorfindra and Professor Lupin said at the same time. The only difference was that Lupin was gently correcting her whereas Elvorfindra's tone was waspish.

Findra blushed, embarrassed, but continued, "Like at all. The only reason you're saying that is because you, as a member of the audience, didn't know that. Granted, I don't know everything about this event, but from the context, Stanlit knew who is father was, and Aleksandr likely killed his son knowing who he was, during a time when power was more important to wizards than personal relationships."

"Well sooo-rreeee, Miz Intelligence," Védith retorted.

Lupin beamed at Elvorfindra. "I have to say that I'm quite impressed, Elvorfindra!"

She shrugged in response, glared at Védith, and went back to her mysterious schematic.

"So! In light of this fascinating discussion, I suppose I should reveal what I have planned for the rest of the term. After this class, we will pull away from historical discussions and focus more on the theoretic and practical sides of defense against the dark arts. However, I hope you like the wizard or witch that you picked for this assignment because they will remain with you for the rest of the year. You will have an eight-foot long critical essay due in mid-January on your dark historical figure, and as part of your N.E.W.T.s, you will have to give an oral presentation, strongly based on your paper."

The class let out their disapproval in a variety of ways: shouts, shrieks, sobs, curses, and tirades. Draco Malfoy scowled. Lupin met his gaze and cheerfully said, "And you were so worried about this class not being difficult!"

**X X X**

On Saturday, the sun shined, the castle emptied to go to Hogsmeade, and Védith was glad to be a pimp. In the early afternoon, she left Elvorfindra to work on whatever it was she was working on. They still hadn't spoken about what was really on their minds, but Védith was of the opinion that Findra needed to apologize for not adhering to the plan before there would be any reconciliation. She could play the stubborn game easily.

Védith wound her way down some stairs and up some hallways and found Malfoy leaning against the door of the anonymous broom closet. He looked up at her and erased an unusually pensive countenance from his face.

"There you are," he said, briefly eyeing her up and down.

Védith shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He was here to meet another chick. He was probably just being a jackass and trying to make her feel like shit. Well fuck him. Hopefully Ginny knew what she was getting into.

"Yeah, whateva. You got the cash?" she asked, glancing up and downt he hallway to make sure the coast was clear.

"That's a stupid question to ask a Malfoy," he said, shoving a purple velvet bag of sickles into her hand. She took a brief look inside and, satisfied with what she saw, she nodded and stuffed it into a pocket of her jeans.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so," he said with a feral grin.

She smiled awkwardly and hated the blush that flooded her cheeks. Dude was a tool, but dude was _fine_. Védith grabbed the doorknob and swung the closet door open.

"Go 'head," she said as she half ushered, half shoved him inside.

"Wait? Where are you going?" he asked, confused when she started to close the door.

"Be patient, she'll be here in a minute," she hissed.

"Be here in a minute, eh? Alright. I can wait," he said easily before lowering his gaze to her chest. She slammed the door and left him in the dark.

"Freak," she muttered.

A moment later, Ginny skipped around the corner—yes, _skipped_—with an excited grin on her freckled face.

"There you are! Is he coming? What should I do? How do I look?" she gushed.

"Damn, girl! _Chill_. He's already here." Védith couldn't help but glare irritably at her. Ginny shrank back and Védith softened. She couldn't blame the girl for being so wound up. She'd be giddy too if she were about to get some…with someone as fine as Malfoy, no less. Védith shook her head. _No_. Though shalf not covet a client. She smiled at Ginny warmly.

"Don't worry, girl, you look great," she said, taking in Ginny's tight red scoop-neck sweater with approval. "Now, do you have the money?"

"Yes!" She dug out the paltry sum from a discreet pocket in her black skirt.

Ah, the joys of having a filthy rich client. She could overcharge Malfoy and give Ginny a discount without either of them knowing. Ah, the joys of the sliding scale.

"O.K. great. Well, you better get in there. Don't want to keep him waiting!"

"Okay, okay. Eek! I'm so happy, Védith! Thank you so much." Ginny threw her arms around Védith, effectively choking her.

Védith pried Ginny's arm from her neck, shoved her into the closet, and attempted to not look suspicious, which was difficult, considering she was wearing her pimp hat.

**X X X**

The door opened and shut so quickly, Malfoy didn't realize three was anyone there with him until an arm brushed up against him.

"There you are," he murmured and drew her into his arms.

"Yes," she replied breathlessly.

He kissed her hard and pressed her hard into the closet wall; a broom handle was sticking uncomfortably in her back, but she tried to ignore it. He broke the kiss and she sighed. She heard the ziiip of a zipper unzipping and frowned.

"Well, shall we get to it, then? This blowjob you promised?" he said drolly.

A cold feeling crept up Ginny's neck. Something wasn't right.

"What? What are you talking about?" she asked.

When he didn't respond, she said, "Harry, don't you think it's a bit soon?"

"Fucking hell."

"What?" she asked.

"I knew you were too short. Goddamn it, I'm going to be sick." Malfoy threw the door open and Ginny gasped in horror as light from the corridor lit up his platinum blond hair.

"_MALFOY?_" she cried shrilly.


	13. Conned

**A/N: If you don't like the word "erection," then you probably shouldn't read the beginning of this chapter.**

_Chapter 13: Conned_

Védith decided she should probably hang out for a minute. There was just one more thing she had to take care of before her job was done. All she heard was silence. So far, so good. Suddenly the door tore open. Malfoy burst out of the closet and narrowed his eyes on Védith.

"_MALFOY?_" Ginny cried shrilly, following him out.

"Uh-oh." Védith laid an exaggerated grimace on her face.

"Uh-oh is right, Black-Ness," he spat.

"Védith! What did you do?" Ginny screamed.

"Okay this is not my fault," Védith said quickly.

"Oh it's not, is it?" he said with raised brows. He wiped off his lips with the back of his hand, as if trying to remove some invisible stain.

Védith took a deep breath and remembered the first time Ginny had sought out her help. "Ginny, you said, and I quote, 'Oh, you know...He's pretty well known. Sexiest guy in school. Great body and all the girls want him. He plays Quidditch. He's a seeker! And a damn good one at that. His two best friends are always at his side... He's known all over school. He's one of the most popular seventh years.' End quote." Damn, she should really pursue acting with those kinds of memorization skills. "That's this guy, isn't?" Védith asked Ginny, pointing at Malfoy.

Ginny was apoplectic. "I meant Harry! _Harry! _Are you daft?"

"Oh. Hmmm. That would be a problem. Weird, I can't believe I didn't get that," Védith pondered aloud, tapping her chin.

"Don't you _dare _tell anyone what happened here." Ginny pointed her wand threateningly in Malfoy's face.

"And sully my reputation? Hardly," he scoffed.

"Well, I can make it up to you, Ginny, at not additional charge! I'll talk to Punkass P, and it'll be gravy," Védith assured her.

"If you so much as say one word to him about me, I will slit your throat," Ginny replied with menace lacing her voice.

"No really—"

"Stay out of it. I'll take care of it myself. I don't know why I thought some American wannabe pimp would be able to help me with this," Ginny snarled and stormed away from them.

Védith sighed in satisfaction and leaned against one of the cold stone walls of the castle. "Perfect. My job here is done."

Malfoy raised an aristocratic brow at her. "I beg to differ."

"No? Ginny's gonna go after Punkass P all by herself, _and_, I get to keep her money."

"You did that on purpose," Malfoy said dumbly.

"More or less," she shrugged.

"What do you mean?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her.

"Well you see what _had happened _was…that when she first came to me, she would not stop with the jibbah-jabbah. I wanted her to shut the fuck up already, so I came to the conclusion that she was talking about one of two people: your fool ass or Punkass P. I figured I might as well try to set her up with you because she's been around Harry for so long that she obviously needs a big hard shove in his direction. That shove being my supposedly botched attempt at matchmaking. I figured the revulsion would send her running to Punkass P, which it has. However, if it turned out that she was in fact after you all along, then my job would be done anyway. So it's perfect. Give it a little while, and you'll see them with their hands all over each other in the Great Hall in no time," Védith explained with a self-assured grin.

Malfoy stared at her. She had schemed all of that up? He blinked. And why wasn't she in Slytherin? He felt a sense of begrudging respect toward her. The only problem was that she had conned him out of a pretty penny. And Malfoys were never conned.

"Alrighty, well I gots homework to do, so, peace in the Mid East!" she said and started to leave.

Malfoy grabbed her arm to keep her from going anywhere. Védith turned and looked down at his pale hand holding her still.

"I believe you've overlooked something," he said slowly.

"Nope. Black-Nesses don't overlook."

"I believe you promised me a blowjob that would 'make my eyes glaze over so that all I would be able to see were stars.'"

"Right." She nodded in agreement.

"Instead you gave me Ginny Weasley," he said with distaste.

Védith pretended to think about it before saying, "Yes. And you're an asshole. So I used you. Crafty, huh?"

Personally, Malfoy agreed that she was indeed quite crafty, but he would _never _admit that to her.

"I paid you for services that were not rendered." He pulled her closer to him. She swallowed and looked up at him awkwardly.

"I'll give you half of your money back," she replied in a reasonable tone.

"No. You see, when you said 'a friend,' I assumed you were talking about yourself. So imagine my displeasure when I realized I had that red-haired weasel in my arms," he explained, leaning in close.

"Psshhht. Me? Why would you think it was me?"

"Well I assumed you were—"

"You know what happens when you assume? ASS, U, ME? Right?" she said and tried to remove her arm from his grasp. And failed.

"As I was saying, I assumed that you were prostituting yourself—"

"No! Goddamn! I'm the _Pimp_, capital P! Not the ho. And for that matter, my hoes aren't literally ho's." She took off her hat and continued in an overly formal tone, "The services I provide are traditional matchmaking schemes and/or solutions to other troubles within the realm of love and romance. And I just happen to do it for money."

"That's neither here nor there, Black-Ness. I thought I was getting one of the hottest pieces in school, so frankly, you can imagine my disappointment," he said between gritted teeth.

"Well—"

"You said I was one of the hottest guys in school," he reminded her.

"I mean for Hogwarts, yeah. But that hair that blinds me every time I see it." She squinted her eyes for effect.

He leaned in closer. "You love it," he said in a deep undertone.

Védith opened her mouth to argue, but Malfoy grasped her shoulders and crushed his lips against hers. She remained motionless out of shock until he sucked very lightly on her lower lip. She sighed, giving in and kissing him back. She would admit to herself and no one else that she'd been dying for him to do that. His tongue soon found hers and heat rushed through her skin. She pressed her breasts eagerly up against his chest. He moaned against her lips and ground his hips into hers. Védith ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed herself against his erection, growing dizzy with lust. Malfoy suddenly pushed through the haze of desire and broke the kiss. The air felt as cool and empty as the hallways around them.

His hair was in disarray and his face was flushed, but somehow he managed to carry his usual snide tone of voice. "That will have to do for now, you ridiculous wench. But believe me, I'll be coming back for more. I paid Malfoy money for your services, regardless of who would be performing them."

Védith pulled out the velvet pouch that held his money, suddenly willing to give it up. He took one look at it and smirked, but walked away without a backward glance.

**X**

Storming back into the Ravenclaw common room later that afternoon, Védith was fuming. She was looking for a younger student she could punt out the window, but realized the area was completely empty, aside from Elvorfindra, who was in the same spot Védith had left her when she'd gone to attend to Malfoy and Ginny. Too furious with herself and with Malfoy to deal with Elvorfindra, she turned around and went to the library to study.

**X**

Scott enjoyed Hogsmeade weekends mostly because he never went and the castle was wonderfully empty. Which meant he could hang out with Filch and Mrs. Norris. He found them wandering the hallways near Filch's office, and greeted them heartily. A grin broke out onto Filch's rotten face.

"Scotty! I was wonderin' if I might see you today. How've you been?" he said, and embraced him heartily.

Scott's face clouded. "I've been better."

Filch frowned, and motioned him toward his office. "Come on in. We'll have a cuppa and some sweets. I popped over to Honeydukes this morning and picked up some chocolate-covered scorpions and peanut-butter caramel slugs."

Scott resisted the urge to find something else to do that afternoon. In all the years he'd known Filch, he'd never gotten used to his love for candied bugs. Especially when he ate them so…enthusiastically. The crunching always made him and his stomach cringe a little. But Filch was one of the few allies he had in this school. So he followed the man into his dusty and dimly lit office for tea.

"Would you mind?" he asked. He closed the door to his office and pointed to a teapot full of water that sat on his cluttered desk.

Scott nodded. He walked over to the desk, pointed his wand at the chipped porcelain, and recited a spell to heat the water. He opened a canister full of tea nearby and dished out the dried tealeaves into an infuser. He dropped the small metal contraption inside the teapot and watched as swirls of dark color invaded the water.

Filch cleared his throat. "Have a seat," he said as he cleared piles of parchment and books from a weathered chair with faded green upholstery.

Scott took him up on his offer and watched as Filch puttered around, adding sugar and cream to their teas, and pulling out a tin full of what Scott could only assume were Filch's favored candied insects. He set everything down on a small rickety table and took a seat across from Scott.

"So, how have things been going?" Filch asked with keen interest in his eyes.

Scott sighed. "They were going okay, and then great, and then not at all." He took one of the teacups, inhaled the potent aroma that only English tea could emit, and took a sip.

"How's that? How are things with that American girl? Get anywhere?" Filch asked. He pulled a small chocolate-covered scorpion from the tin and crunched on it happily. Scott tried not to wince. He didn't think that even his father could pull that off with such ease and unfeigned delight.

"Well, I did," Filch's face lit up to hear this news, "and then I didn't. I can't."

Filch raised his brows incredulously. "What do you mean you can't? You can't bloody back down now. She's the first girl I've seen you look twice at."

"It's not that simple."

"I don't understand. What's not simple about it? She likes you, right?"

"Uncle Filch, I told you that it's not that simple!" Scott threw back at him, adamant.

Filch stared at him. Instead of saying anything, he thought it best to wait until Scott shed some light on the subject. The younger man clenched and unclenched his jaw.

"Apparently Father's finally found a use for me here, aside from just spying. I'm afraid that if I get too close to her that he'll find out. We both know how good of a Legilimens he is. No good can come of that," Scott said darkly. That was as much of the truth as he was willing to admit.

Filch stared at his nephew with wide, terrified eyes. "No—your father? But I thought—"

"So did everyone. It's not true though. After all the werewolves—aside from Fenrir Greyback—rejected his offer for an alliance, he thought it would be best to go back into hiding before he had a well-formulated plan," he explained.

Filch gulped. "Does this mean he has a well-formulated plan?"

"Hardly," Scott scoffed. "I think at this point he's just getting desperate. He's afraid that if he doesn't act now, then he'll never get the chance."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his gravelly voice sounding disappointed.

Scott sighed. "I didn't want to put you or anyone else in any unnecessary danger. I didn't see the point. As long as he wasn't doing anything actively wrong, I just wanted to leave it alone."

Filch set a determined look upon his face. "Scott, m'dear boy, I think it's time we went to Dumbledore," he said while Mrs. Norris jumped lightly onto his lap, as if to back up what the man was saying.

"No," Scott said, immediately rejecting the idea and shaking his head vehemently. "Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix are the last people who would believe that the Dark Lord's _son _would be on their side."

"Why not? You're one of his most severe victims, brought up with his doctrines, and punished cruelly if you did not follow his instructions to the letter."

"Same with Draco Malfoy, but he's more eager than ever to get a tattoo. Besides, my father would know in a second if I'd actually betrayed him. It's one thing to mock him at every turn, another thing to go crying off to Dumbledore. I've never been any good at Occlumency; Daddy made sure of that," he spouted sourly.

"If anyone's skilled at magic like that, then it's Dumbledore," Filch nodded fiercely. "He already knows that you're my nephew. And your mother—he had nothing but respect for her before she…passed."

"The answer is no, Uncle Filch. I can't take the risk," Scott said brusquely. He stood up, scraping his chair back against the cold stone floors. "I'm glad I got to see you, but please don't say anything to any of those blasted do-gooders," he pleaded.

Filch looked at his nephew sadly, but nodded.

**X**

Sitting in the common room that night, Elvorfindra attempted to write a hopeless Charms essay. Meanwhile, Védith was perched in an awkward position involving flailing limbs on the arm of a couch and with an iPod and her wand. She was trying to watch old episodes of _King of the Hill_, but for some reason iPods needed the Reinforced Frequency charm more often than the other muggle appliances they owned. As a result, she would make a fuss and have to repeat the charm every few minutes, much to the consternation of their housemates. Watching TV this way was not helping her mood, after what had gone down with Malfoy and considering that she and Elvorfindra were still avoiding one another as much as possible.

"I hate that stupid, stupid, sparkly, tiny little man!" Elvorfindra hissed and crossed out an entire paragraph on her parchment.

"I hate Gary Coleman too, boo," Védith sighed absentmindedly and watched Peggy try to put on her size 16 shoes. She looked up at Elvorfindra, startled that she had said anything at all, but was thankful that the other girl had failed to notice that she'd spoken.

Elvorfindra inwardly seethed. The essay on the Fidelus Charm was giving her hell. It wasn't so much about the content as it was about the parchment and quill 'n ink crap. There were more blotches on the parchment than actual writing. There was no point in using her laptop because she didn't have a printer, and it wasn't like she could just send the essay as an attachment to Flitwick or anything. No, because that would have been _convenient_.

"Fuck it," she finally growled. She snapped her quill in half and threw it into the fire. She knew there had to be a ballpoint pen and college rule notebook paper somewhere in her trunk.

"So _fucking_ medieval!" Védith heard her grumble. Elvorfindra started to make her way to her dorm room to look for some real paper, but was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the common room door. Her eyes narrowed to burning cinders. _Who_ wanted in _this_ close to curfew and were they really so retarded to not be able to figure out the riddle? Her knuckles white as she gripped her Charms textbook, Elvorfindra saw that no one was making a move to see who was at the entrance.

"Never gonna get this done! I'm going to _fail_ seventh year!" Her hands swung around wildly as she stalked towards the front of the common room, slightly resembling Hermione during final exams.

"Not my fault you procrastinated," Védith whistled between her teeth to herself, but secretly glad that the irate girl hadn't heard her. Elvorfindra pushed the door open violently and looked around. Right in front of her was a blond with charming green eyes, grinning at her. Elvorfindra melted a little.

"Hi, I'm terribly sorry to derange you at this time of night, but I'm here on behalf of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team." A few strands of hair fell in his face as he spoke.

Instantly Elvorfindra brightened and smiled back at him. "Oh, hi! What can I do for you?" she asked and leaned against the entrance's frame comfortably.

"Well, this year, we've realized that our brooms aren't exactly in the best condition, and our uniforms are a in a sad, sad state of affairs. We've been trying to get new banners and things because the whole team has noticed that Hufflepuff's support is...kind of lacking." A pained look crossed his face.

"No! That's terrible." Her hand went to her chest, and she looked at him pityingly.

"Yeah, and the school has been stingy with its budget, so we've been trying to get donations—"

"Of course! Why don't you come on in?" Elvorfindra held open the door for him. The bronze bird fixed to the door gave an indignant squawk. He entered the common area and smiled again at her.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name," she said, her eyes resting on his face as she led him into the midst of the common room.

"Zacharias. Zacharias Smith. You can just call me Zach, though," he said with a nod as he looked around.

"Okay, hold on. I'll be right back, Zach," she replied, giddy, and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Elvorfindra darted straight towards Védith and sat down next to her on the couch.

"Véd, do you have any sickles on you?" she whispered, ignoring the fact that she was still pissed off at her. There was a cute guy in the room and she was not about to let him get away. If Scott was stupid enough to ignore her, then that didn't mean she couldn't get a fine piece for herself.

Védith frowned. "Yeah...but why the hell would I give any of it to you?" she asked, but found herself reaching into her pocket anyway, attempting to steady the nachos that sat on her knee, the iPod she held in her right hand, and her wand that sat precariously on her shoulder.

Elvorfindra looked at her with pleading eyes. "Well it's—"

"STAAAARRRRRRRRSSLLEEEEEY!" Entwhistle's booming voice could be heard throughout the entire common room.

"Yeah?" Her head shot up, looking for the obnoxious prefect.

"Tell me why there's a HUFFLEPUFF in this Common Room!" he said, cutting through the venomous stares that were aimed at Smith and Starsley.

"Oh! Well, we were talking, and he was saying how the Hufflepuff Quidditch team is really in need of donations. Their house spirit is dropping and their uniforms suck. Brooms kind of suck too. So I thought I'd—"

"Findra! You wanted to use my money on goddamn _Hufflepuff_?" Vedith's eyebrows shot up about a meter in the air.

"Starsley, may I remind you that our own house suffers from crusty brooms, rotting uniforms, and a lack of house spirit?" Entwhistle said evenly.

"Yeah, but I figure that everyone could use some help. I didn't know they weren't supposed to be allowed in the Rah-venclaw common room—"

"If I didn't made it patently clear before, I'm ashamed to say that you are in my house. Get him out," the prefect's voice was dead calm. Elvorfindra's eyes went wide and she silently ushered Zach out.

"I'm really, _really_ sorry about that. I...just...well, I feel like I should give you something. All I've got is three Knuts." Elvorfindra's shoulders slumped a little as she handed him the money. "Oh, and one U.S. dollar."

"No, that's okay, we really appreciate the offer!" His eyes were earnest. Elvorfindra slowly felt humiliation creep up her spine. "I'll see you around," and with that he walked out the door to be greeted by Megan Jones, another Hufflepuff.

"Hey, I managed to get a few galleons from Trelawney. Did you get anything?" she asked as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Not really..." Their voices trailed off as Elvorfindra slammed the door shut.

_You. Are. An Idiot, _Elvorfindra berated herself. Suddenly Entwhistle was in front of her, jabbing a finger in her face.

"Starsley, I swear that if I see you pull a stunt like—"

"Oi, fuck off, asstard! Can't you see she's sorry?" Védith walked up and snapped at him.

Elvorfindra met Védith's eyes, but instead of saying anything or going back to her homework, she went to bed. A few minutes later, Vedith crept inside the dorm room and spotted Elvorfindra in her bed, her back turned away from her. Védith cleared her throat.

"I guess this wouldn't be the best time to tell you our House's name is pronounced Ray-venclaw, not Rah-venclaw. Like the bird? Raven? Ravenclaw?"

"_Goodnight_, Védith," she replied tartly.

Védith started to turn away and leave, but Findra bit out, "Why are guys such idiotic manipulative jackasses?"

Thoughts of Entwhistle being a douche and Malfoy being…something…brought a scowl to her face. "Tell me about it," she said, sitting on Elvorfindra's bed.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up.

"What do _you _mean?" Védith shot back with a quirked brow.

They both stayed silent. Elvorfindra looked down. She was tired of being angry with Védith. She needed her best friend. If they were going to pull anything off, it would have to be together.

"Same time?" Védith offered. They opened their mouths, but still stayed silent. Then, they blurted:

"I made out with Scott Éville."

"I made out with Draco Malfoy."

They started at each other, bug-eyed.

**X**

Some time later, Védith and Elvorfindra stared at each other with blank looks that soon dissolved into mischievous grins.

"We both got some ass within the first week of school. Nice. Good work, team!" Védith said and gave Findra a high five.

"Yeah, but at least you have promise for more ass in the future," Findra remarked sullenly.

"Yikes. Hooking up with Malfoy is probably a _terrible_ idea. I heard that he and his family were totally Big Man V supporters. Also, he's a giant tool," Védith pointed out.

"Oh whatever, have you _seen_ how fine that man is, regardless of that ridiculous hair?"

"It kind of grows on you though, doesn't it?" Védith admitted.

"Unfortunately, yes," Findra said on a sigh.

"Okay, well look. Remember when Flitwick held me after class that one day? I have an idea—"

"So do I," Elvorfindra interrupted.

"About the plan?" Védith asked.

She nodded. "About the plan."


End file.
